Blood and Butterfly Wings
by Syrianora
Summary: AU C/B. Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father’s most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her.
1. Chapter 1: Kohl Lined Eyes

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note:** First CB multi-chapter fic! This idea sort of floated into my head one boring day in class, and I've been actively working on it for the past couple of days. Remember, it's AU Chuck and Blair, but I will try to stay true to the characters who grace our tv screens. There will be some rewriting of history, but none too difficult that I believe will utterly confuse the common reader. I'm anxious to see its reception, so let me know what you think! As always, enjoy reading, and let the story begin :)

**Chapter 1: Kohl-Lined Eyes**

_For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, _

_who art as black as hell, as dark as night. _

_William Shakespeare (1564-1616)_

__

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charles Bartholomew Bass was a man who was not easily characterized by uneasiness. He was of a more calming demeanor, as dictated by his cool eyes and soothing walk, and he did not think of himself as being tender to nervousness. However, at that exact moment, his fingers were anxiously clutching the arm of his leather seat, and his normally restful gaze was quickly alternating between the oak doors before him and the moving hand of his Rolex.

3:15.

His fingers loosened their tight grip and swiftly ran over his blue silken tie, already certain that it was perfectly ironed that same morning. He crossed one leg, then the other, finally deciding to keep both feet firmly planted on the plush carpet below him.

He couldn't seem to ease his restlessness.

Finally, he took a deep breath, willing his pounding heart to still itself, and he tipped his head backward, chocolate eyes shutting in exhaustion. It had been a tiring day, and the endless documents he had read that afternoon were causing him to see visions of black letters beneath his lids. He sighed in fatigue, his perfect features quickly relaxing as he performed a rhythmic breathing session.

Bass Industries was situated in the thriving town of Paris, and Chuck was in charge of handling all foreign accounts that came in its direction. Mostly, he dealt with business coming from the United States, his advanced education in English aiding him to decipher the foreign language. He had lived in the states till he was ten years old, and promptly after his fifth grade graduation ceremony, his father and him had flown to the Parisian headquarters to handle business at the center of operations. Although he had spent most of his life in the Parisian culture, he would always consider himself an American.

He had promptly studied at the most prestigious English university in Italy, earning a degree in international relations, and had been immediately hired at his father's business. At age 27, he was currently the youngest head of an entire language department in a major business aggregate in Europe.

And the most sought-after bachelor in Paris.

He heard a throat clear; one eye opened and peered towards the oak doors, finding the two watchmen standing cautiously at its doors. One looked toward him and tipped his hat, to which Chuck nodded in acknowledgment, his head tipping back to return to his thoughts.

3:18.

The last and only time he had been in his father's office, the man had declared Chuck's overseeing of all American accounts a day after his college graduation.

And today, a few weeks following his twenty-seventh birthday, his father had called him to his office to discuss with him "a matter of dear importance".

Chuck sighed heavily. The relationship that he attempted to maintain with his father was a tricky one indeed; much of their conversation centered on Bass Industries. Yet, he was in clear anticipation of what was to come; being called to the office of the head of Bass Industries meant that Bart Bass had something important to say.

The last time he had been called in, the meeting had changed his life.

Chuck was certain this meeting would be no exception.

3:20.

"Mr. Bass? Your father will see you now."

Perfect timing.

Chuck quickly darted from his chair to the oak doors, straightening his suit and tie as the guards promptly opened the doors to allow him inside. His eyes quickly took in the office, noting its unchanging appearance since his first and only time of visit. The walls were framed with photos of Chuck's family ancestors who had brought the company to success. An American flag stood proudly by the mahogany desk. The company logo was proudly stamped upon the white wall behind the desk and above the large windows that allowed much light into the room. Chuck swiftly sat at the leather chair before the large desk.

And his eyes finally caught the smirking gaze of his father.

Bart Bass was a man who aged effortlessly, drank moderately, and smoked incessantly. He was part of a line of ancestors who had led Bass Industries into success, a feat dating many decades before Chuck's birth. Chuck had always admired his commandeering father, a figure who emitted supremacy, influence, as well as a keen desire to crush all minions before him. His eyes were a bright blue, and his hair was beginning to take on a more grayish tone. It did not make him appear older; rather, he emerged as a wiser and more astute character heading one of the most powerful industries in Europe.

"Welcome, Charles."

Chuck nodded, eyes kept with Bart's. Immediately after the light greeting, Javier, his father's right hand man, quickly strode to Chuck and offered him an antique box, showcasing a wide array of Cuban cigars. To be polite, Chuck thanked the man and pulled out a cigar, allowing Javier to light it and present it to Chuck. He inhaled the deep taste of the tobacco, finally releasing a puff of smoke that quickly clouded his vision.

"I heard about your handling of the Beamon account," Bart spoke clearly. "Very impressive."

Chuck willed himself to take on a more calming persona, and his tone rapidly followed his wishes. "Mere damage control, Father."

Bart simply nodded. His eyes stared at Chuck for a few moments, and Chuck felt the intensity of the conversation grow with each passing second. It was always difficult to be under Bart's watchful gaze: many men sprinted in the opposite direction whenever they encountered the power of Bart's gaze. However, Chuck was Bart's only heir, the only character who could return the look as promptly. So, he kept Bart's eyes, unwilling to show any sign of his weakness to his extremely scrutinizing father.

Suddenly, Bart lifted himself from his chair, striding to Chuck and handing him a glossed photograph.

"What do you think?"

Chuck's eyes landed on the photograph.

A stunning brunette stared back at him. Her chocolate curls were piled high on her head, a golden headband placed effortlessly atop her hair. One bare shoulder peeked out from a white peasant top, a golden necklace adorning her exposed neck. Her kohl-lined eyes were a deep chocolate, strong and proud against the light of the photographer, parted lips full and nude and certainly inviting.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

After a few moments of fascination, his eyes lifted to the amused ones of his father's.

"What is this, Father?"

And for the _first_ time in Chuck Bass's life, he saw a devilish grin form on his father's face.

"That, my son, is your next assignment." With a quick nod to Javier, golden amber was brought to Bart, who brought the glass upward in a salute.

"Vengeance."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thanks for reading! Feedback is adored :)


	2. Chapter 2: Chocolate Curls

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all who reviewed and all who signed up for alerts! You truly helped me get this chapter out quicker: more feedback equals more chapters! I've definitely outlined the story so I know exactly where I want to go. It's really important that I keep the essence of the characters real, so dialogue is more difficult and will take longer for me to write. I'm really excited for the journey and I do hope you all will come along for the ride :) Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: Chocolate Curls**

_Deception is a cruel act…_

_It often has many players on different stages that corrode the soul._

_Donna A. Favors_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_The day of her funeral would forever be characterized as being pale. The clouds were still and unmoving, the air was pasty and cold, and all colors seemed to be stripped and unforgiving to a young Chuck Bass._

_His eyes watched the coffin being slowly lowered to the ground, the black box preparing to be forever buried underneath the earth. Black mourners stood, prepared to show their utmost respects to the buried. Chuck couldn't recognize any of the mourners; he would later learn that many of them were his father's associates attending the funeral in hopes of corporate advancement. The woman's family wasn't present; they had been uninformed of her death. _

_With a suitable amount of money, even death could be concealed._

_There he stood, clutching the still hand of his father, as he watched his mother slowly lowered away from him for all eternity. _

_And finally, at that exact moment, after days of mourning, Chuck Bass came to many realizations._

_He would never see the brightest smile he had ever encountered in his life. He would never hear the gentle laughter of his youth. _

_He would never gaze upon the bright sapphire eyes of his adored mother._

_"No!" he cried, his hand freeing itself from Bart and his form propelling itself to the coffin. "Stop! She's not dead, she's not dead!"_

_He continued to cry and scream, his little fists pounding angrily on the box, tears streaming freely down his cheeks, wetting the surface of the coffin. He began to shake uncontrollably, mind desperate to wake itself from the chilling nightmare he was experiencing. When Javier made an attempt to pull Chuck away, Chuck simply clutched at the solid form even harder, his small hands wandering the surface for some sort of way to hold his form against his mother. Couldn't there have been a handle of some sort? _

_Any way for God to exact some sort of justice and allow Chuck a few more moments with his deceased mother? _

_But Javier had finally managed a tough grip on Chuck and dragged him away, plunging a long and silver needle deep into his arm. Chuck's screams decreased in intensity until he was a mumbling mess, the coffin continuing to be lowered into the ground and the mourners keeping their eyes trained on the movement. As if a scene hadn't just occurred. _

_As if a child hadn't just shrieked for the death of his mother._

_The last thing Chuck Bass saw on the day of his mother's funeral was his father's long and unmoving gaze from the coffin, eyes cold and dark and completely dry, as his wife joined the departed souls beneath the earth._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Chuck's brows furrowed in confusion at his father's words. "I don't understand, sir."

Bart simply smiled, taking a final swig of his scotch and handing the empty glass to Javier. "What is it that you desire most in this world?"

Chuck was left in even more confusion at the question. He wasn't sure if his father expected an honest answer, though he was certain of the correct answer he could have provided that would have made his father proud. The advancement of the company, the general expansion of Bass Industries, anything related to the innovation of the company of his ancestors.

But Bart's next words stilled Chuck's attempt at a response.

"I know you will reply with the well-being of the company," Bart began, his eyes still and unmoving. "But I know that it is not what you want the _most_."

Chuck held the gaze, his form motionless. He considered his next words. "You know that I have always wanted your approval, Father."

Bart's smile grew even larger until it became almost frightful. "If you accomplish the task I am about to beseech to you, I will give to you the entirety of Bass Industries, no questions asked."

Chuck's eyes widened at his father's words. Could Bart be serious with his promise? Would he certainly present his life's works to his young son, a son who had constantly worked to gain his acceptance, a son who would move heaven and hell if it meant a true _smile_ from his father in his direction?

"As well as my unabashed and never-ending approval of you, Charles."

Shock flooded Chuck's expression. His last similar meeting with his father had landed him an influential position within the company; this meeting was no exception, for Chuck was being granted the power to control his ancestor's most prized possession, as well as the immediate approval he had worked so hard to gain.

For most of his life, Chuck had done everything in order to please his father. Receiving perfect grades, crafting an enviable fashion sense, and completing his assigned tasks with great quality were among the few things he did to gain his father's approval. But much of it was useless for Chuck; his father still persisted to brush right past him, nodding slowly at his son's work and continuing on his way, eyes glued to the document in his hands.

Could it be so easy? Was a simple task the answer to Chuck's most sought-after desire? If he were to complete his father's assignment, would Chuck finally receive what he had so _desperately_ wanted?

The mere _approval_ of his father?

Bart smiled, seeing Chuck's eyes brighten with wonder.

"The woman in the picture is Blair Cornelia Waldorf," he explained, snapping his fingers to Javier, who immediately strode over to the elder Bass with a manila folder. "She's a heavily sought after model in New York City, having shot many covers for fashion magazines in the states."

Bart handed the object to Chuck, who immediately opened it at receiving. A collection of magazine shots were inside, images of the brunette littering the folder. His fingers ran over the many shots, taking hold of a particularly intriguing one.

A laughing Blair Waldorf met his gaze, her eyes bright and content in the park scenery. She wore a simple flowered dress, dark curls long and flowing in the wind, one leg crossed over the other as she sat on a park bench, her smile wide and unashamed in the spring season.

Another picture caught his eye, a black and white photo, of her bare form sitting atop a bed, a simple black sheet held up to her chin, bottom lip bitten at the corner, eyes lined with a white shadow that made her seem like a frightened goddess.

Chuck forced his eyes from the picture to his father, who had made his way to the large windows overseeing the flurry of Parisian life, back straight and directed to Chuck. A bread peddler made his daily journey down the streets, little children's laughter echoing soundly as they enjoyed the festivities following school time.

Parisian life was still active and bustling after Chuck Bass had been given the task of a lifetime.

Bart held a glass of scotch in his hand.

Could he really have been staring at the photos for _that_ long? That he hadn't seen his father move to the opposite side of the room?

"Your task is to claim this woman as your own. Make her fall in love with you, in any way possible."

Chuck kept his gaze on Bart's back. The atmosphere of the room suddenly became tenser and obscure, the Parisian sun seeming to shrink as it met with the intensity of Bart's gaze staring out the windows.

As if all of Paris knew what was to come.

"And when she's fallen so _helplessly_ for you… when you've discovered something that will utterly _disgrace_ her," Bart spoke slowly, his words enunciated with darkness, "you will use it against her, and utterly destroy the Waldorf heiress."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sorry this chapter was a bit on the short side :) Next chapter is a bit longer and extremely important. I will try to update this every other day, but things will get hectic for me in the next few weeks, so bear with that slight promise :) Remember, feedback is adored!

Until next time :)


	3. Chapter 3: Too Dark, Too Heavy

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Once again, thanks to all who reviewed and signed up for alerts! Thank yourselves for this chapter: it's long and all your doing :) And to all those lurkers, drop a line! We promise we don't bite :) Enjoy!

**Chapter 3: Too Dark, Too Heavy**

_We are the leaves of one branch, _

_The drops of one sea,_

_The flowers of one garden._

_Jean Baptiste Henry Lacordaire_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Even in the latest hours of the evening, when all of mankind should have been in a deep slumber and setting the city in silence, New York City was still stirring with activity. Numerous taxi cabs loudly sounded their horns, Americans darted from one end of the narrow street to another, and the multitude of lights showed to all ordinary nights in the city that never sleeps._

_A black BMW stood situated at the street curb, its form cleverly made inconspicuous among the luxurious cars in the area. The sole dark figure within the vehicle casually lit a cigarette, eyes watching the apartment complex before him._

_At exactly eleven-fifteen PM, just as it had been every night for the past few days of observation, two young women strolled out of the revolving doors and to the awaiting limo. One was tall and blonde, a bit too blonde for Chuck's taste. The other was the object of his keen surveillance. He couldn't see her clearly enough to distinguish her from any other brunette, but he was certain that Blair Waldorf was the figure who was currently entering her limo._

_Even from afar, she looked exquisite. _

_His eyes trailed from her purple heels up her matte opaque stockings, finally to the purple plaid coat she wore in the winter season. Her hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail, and she kindly opened the door for her blonde companion, who giddily slid in, prepared for the traditional drinks they would share at their regular nightclub. _

_Just as scheduled, they would arrive back at Blair's suite at twelve-thirty PM, the girls would exchange their farewells, and the brunette would hurry up to her room before waking up at five AM for her modeling career. From six AM till six PM, Blair would spend her day at the modeling institute on 74th street. Then, she would promptly return to the Palace apartment complex at six-thirty PM, spend a couple of hours coming in and out of her suite, and finally prepare for her evening out towards ten PM. It was a habitual pattern of life: modeling job, some shopping trips, and her evenings concluding at the nightclub._

_Chuck smirked. Leave it to his father to provide him with a target whose daily actions could be easily dictated. _

_He took a long drag of the cigarette, finally releasing the contents. As the smoke gave way to vision, his eyes met the chocolate eyes of his target._

_He had unmistakably locked eyes with Blair Waldorf._

_His heart began to pound incessantly as she held the gaze. He was assured that she couldn't make out his features: the interior of the vehicle was masked in darkness. Plus, this was the seventh car he had alternated with throughout the past few days. She couldn't have recognized it._

_She couldn't have become suspicious._

_However, she continued to stare in his direction, brows furrowed, full lips parted. It was simply a moment, but Chuck felt confident that she was staring into his soul for nearly an eternity. _

_Finally, she broke the gaze, sliding into the limo. It pulled away from the curb, leaving a breathless Chuck in its wake. Shaking fingers held the cigarette to his mouth, taking a final drag and crushing the useless stick against the dashboard. _

_Too close._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

It was ten AM in New York City, and Chuck Bass was currently lounging at a local café, drinking some foreign coffee that made him yearn for the Parisian black liquid. American coffee was too dark, too heavy in its content. The coffee of Paris was a perfect blend of the rich beans, as well as the atmosphere of relaxation. In the states, he would recurrently hear the maddening horns of the abundant cars and taxicabs, but in Paris, he was lulled with the sound of bikers and peddlers enjoying the Parisian streets as he comfortably sipped his coffee amidst the culture.

It had been habitual these past few days: he would spend a couple of hours in a different coffee shop (to avoid suspicion) while Blair spent her days at her modeling institute. Then, he would situate himself in a different car (dependent on his mood and the day: he currently had seven dark vehicles to choose from, all generously provided by his father) and watch Blair continue her monotonous pattern of life.

And it was a monotonous pattern indeed.

Blair's daily activities tended to avoid variation, which greatly puzzled him. Although he hadn't engaged in a conversation with her, Chuck felt himself a good judge of character, and he always seemed to recognize personalities just by watching people interact with the environment around them. It had been a helpful talent he had picked up in his psychology courses back in college, and such a talent aided him to secure some of the more questioning business deals of his past. However, he was incredibly perturbed by his targeted brunette. She completed tasks on a scheduled basis and left no room for discrepancy.

She left him confused and… in _awe_ of her character.

Briefly, his mind wandered, and he wondered what it would take to make the Waldorf heiress experience some change, or simply _live_ a little…

What could make the brunette shake her chocolate curls without a _care_ of what people thought?

Pulling himself out of his straying thoughts, thoughts too deep for his assignment, he took a sip of his too-dark coffee and focused on the newest information he had collected.

With the aid of numerous contacts afforded by his father, Chuck learned that Blair's repeated companion was Serena Van Der Woodsen, a rich heiress who worked at her mother's designing company and had known Blair since childhood. A contact at the company provided Chuck with some rather scandalous gossip: Serena was currently engaged in a secret rendezvous with the Woodsen Design's messenger boy, Dan Humphrey. The boy lived in Brooklyn and was studying to become a journalist, yet his pieces were generally failures, and he had found the job provided him with much needed money.

Though Chuck was confident that the money wasn't the only thing keeping Humphrey employed at the company.

Of course, the encounters were kept secret, and Chuck's sources didn't have to tell him _that_ information. The poor messenger boy and the rich heiress living in happy matrimony, declaring to all their passionate love as Dan was easily accepted into the family?

The Upper East Side didn't work that way. Rich married rich, old money married old money, and there would be no intermixing with old and new money, _let alone_ rich girl and poor boy.

He hadn't been away from the states long enough to forget _that_ minor detail.

He heard the bell indicating the arrival of a new customer, and he inwardly grinned as the object of his thoughts entered the coffee shop.

Right on time.

Serena Van Der Woodsen sauntered to the counter and ordered a common hazelnut coffee with the superiority of her title, just as she had done every Friday, every afternoon for the past several years. His clever plan rewound itself over and over again until he was sure he was visibly shaking at the _genius_ of it all.

It was finally time to begin.

Chuck gathered his empty coffee cup and his wallet in a cool manner, his eyes glued to his Blackberry as he made his way indirectly to the blonde.

Just as could be predicted, and with a somewhat poetic gesture, Serena turned to leave as soon as he "accidentally" bumped into her form. Styrofoam cracked as the hazelnut coffee splattered all over his black coat, the brown liquid surrendering with no protest. Shocked blue eyes met his.

"Oh God...I'm so sorry, sir!" she exclaimed with worry, grabbing nearby piles of tissues and attempting to clean the mess. He inwardly smirked and seized a couple of tissues, dabbing them uselessly at the splotches. The patrons of the coffee shop pretended to remain unaware of the event, for showing interest in the agony of a rich heiress was truly unspeakable, as dictated by the social norms of New York society.

"I'll pay to have it cleaned, sir!" she exclaimed as he sat at a nearby table and tried to will the brown splotches to disappear.

He really did love that coat.

Chuck grabbed some more tissues as a ghost of a smirk began to form. "It really was an accident, ma'am."

"I'm such a clutz sometimes…" she spoke quietly and avoided his eyes, digging through her purse for a pen and paper. Then, she wrote a series of numbers and handed him the card. "Just call this number and I'll have the coat cleaned, steamed, ironed and dropped off the same day."

"You have to say it is a bit on the amusing side," he spoke as he met her eyes with a smile. Serena noted his obviously cool response, and she visibly sighed with relief.

"Not exactly the ordinary response here in New York City," she offered with a small smile. "But certainly appreciated."

He smiled, extending a clean hand to hers. "Chuck. I'm new here in the city."

She seemed to eye his hand, finally returning the gesture. He had been a perfect gentleman, after all. "Serena. Clumsy gal pleased to meet you," she grinned.

A soft vibrating sound made its presence known, and Serena eyes flicked to her new text message. "I'm sorry, but I'm supposed to have been somewhere," she spoke, glancing at her watch, "twenty minutes ago."

Chuck could have danced with merriment at the perfection of it all, but he simply nodded. "I'll call you for the cleaning sometime."

She offered a genuine smile. "Please do." With that, she turned and made her way out of the café.

With a devilish grin, Chuck placed the simple card into his inner pocket.

A means to enter Blair Waldorf's life with the least amount of suspicion as possible?

Complete.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Hope you enjoyed!

As always, thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4: To Maintain Civility

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all who reviewed! And to all those who signed up for Alerts! And to all who Favorited! And to all those lurkers! (Hope I didn't miss anyone :)) Enjoy! Things will really start to pick up after this chapter: it's really important that I set the scene and the characters. Once again, thanks, and enjoy!

**Chapter 4: To Maintain Civility**

_Oh my darling,  
Cling to me  
For we're creatures  
Of the wind  
And wild is the wind._

_Nina Simone, "Wild is the Wind"_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Dinner was announced. Bart Bass heard his wife's voice through the intercom in his office calling him to dinner, and his eyes darted to the picture by his side._

_His smiling son stared back at him, his brown locks falling boyishly over his dark eyes as he proudly held a soccer trophy in his hand. His mother stood behind him, golden locks flowing freely in the wind, her arms wrapped around the boy, a shining smile beaming back at him. It had been taken at the annual soccer game hosted by Bass Industries. Chuck's team had won the match, as well as a considerable amount of money to be donated to fund education in the more under-developed parts of New York. _

_Just as he was about to shut the drawer after replacing his files, his eyes caught a blue manila folder that he couldn't seem to recall. Pulling out the seemingly dated folder, he was about to discard it as being older sales percentages. However, when he looked more closely at the content of the documents, he felt an enraged burning sensation rise up in the pit of his stomach._

_A feeling that he hadn't experienced for years. _

_With a swift and purposeful stride, Bart tossed the folder into the fireplace in his office. Then, his fingers threw a lit match into the files, watching the sheets crisp and burn under his heated gaze. He tossed another match into the fireplace, the papers bending but certainly burning rapidly with no protest._

_With a final look at the ashes, Bart Bass shut the lights and strode out of his office._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Blair! Blair, tell me what you think!"

Blair Waldorf lifted her head upward from her phone to meet Serena's eyes. She offered a small smile at the midnight black tulip dress and nodded slowly. "It looks great, S."

Serena rolled her eyes at B's simple remark. "You've said that about the last three dresses, B! Which one of them screams, 'I'm over you, but I still want you, but I can't have you, but you're still mine'?"

Blair laughed. "That's quite a message for the Dan to work out, S!"

Serena let out an exasperated sigh, blonde hair whirling after her as she trudged back into the dressing room. The two young women were currently shopping at Barneys for the afternoon in preparation for Serena's twenty-fifth birthday party to be hosted at Victrola's that same night. Currently, Serena had tried out the entire shoe section and was working on completing the dress department.

It was common knowledge amongst their inner circle of friends that when Serena was upset, she shopped, mostly for shoes, and no expense was too big for the heiress. At the moment, she and Dan had "decided to move their separate ways" in a mutual respect. However, Serena had immediately called Blair up after the confrontation, and Blair was met with a sobbing Serena, prompting her to suggest a day of shopping for Serena's celebration. Serena had jumped at the opportunity and was working on discovering the perfect outfit to please Dan, which, in Blair's silent opinion, required no reasonable amount of effort.

But Serena was obviously enthralled with this Dan character, so she remained reserved with her opinions and provided Serena with an ear in times of desperation.

Such as this one.

Moments later, Serena stomped out of her dressing room, handed the collection of dresses to a frightened aid who scurried away to ring up the purchases, and made her way to Blair.

"Good news is I found a dress. Bad news is that I kinda have to pay for it since I blew my nose in the fabric," Serena exclaimed with a smile.

"So ladylike of you, S," Blair teased with a grin. "No wonder Dan fell so helplessly in love with you."

At the mention of the unnamable, Serena's eyes grew watery. "You really think this party will change his mind?"

With a confident voice, Blair grabbed Serena's hand and pulled her along for their ritual lunch at Spice Market. "If he doesn't take you back then, I will seriously begin to question his manhood."

And the comfort of old friends returned as Serena laughed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So have you told your mom about EJ?" Serena questioned, taking another forkful of her shrimp salad. Spice Market was Serena and Blair's tradition. The two had been lunching at the restaurant since their high school days at Constance Billiard, their presence treated as royalty because of their incredible social status within New York society. It was common to see the two spend a day shopping and retreat to the restaurant for food and drinks.

Blair sipped her iced tea and sighed. "Definitely _not _the topic of desired conversation, Serena."

Serena flashed a grin. "You're right. That scum doesn't deserve any attention, let alone a name for his womanizing ways. Hooking up with a girl named _Candy _at his father's yacht party?" She took a sip of her martini. "Unbelievably trashy."

Blair smiled, delighted that her best friend could easily lighten the mood. "_And_ the bastard tried to deny it."

Serena raised a golden brow. "That too."

After ordering a quick refill on her drink, Blair turned to Serena. "Mother's heading to France for the Winter Collection, so she won't be home for the next month. She'll have to hear about the break-up when she gets back."

"That's too bad. She really did like this one."

Blair offered a small smile, her voice far and distant. "Yeah. I thought I did too."

Suddenly, the vibration of Serena's phone resting on the table interrupted the conversation. Blair turned amused eyes to Serena. "Phones' off for the lunch, right S?"

Serena rolled her eyes, flipping the phone over and quickly reading the new message.

_**Just got my coat. And the invite. I'm in. – C**_

Serena smirked, fingers rapidly pressing the assortment of buttons to reply.

_**Don't be late. There's someone I want you to meet. – S**_

Serena shut the phone and tucked the object into her purse to avoid another interruption. "Sorry, that was Chuck. He's in for tonight."

Blair's brows furrowed in amusement. "Chuck? The guy you spilled your coffee on a few days ago?"

With a small laugh, Serena nodded. "He's been really great in helping me deal with Dan. He's some listener."

Blair scoffed, rolling her amused eyes as she took a generous bite out of Serena's salad. "Probably helping you deal so he can get into your pants quicker."

Serena offered a small smile and continued. "He's really not like that. He's here for some family issues, so he hasn't got many friends. After we met up at the café, we've been talking, and he's been helping me sort my issues with Dan."

Blair rose a dark brow to showcase her incredulity. "And where have _I _been when you needed this extra ear??"

Serena laughed. "When you're working, B! He's just a really great listener. Plus," she continued with a more lighthearted tone, "he's single!"

When Blair didn't show any signs of refusal, Serena continued. "He's tall, handsome, works for a company in Paris, dresses _amazingly _well, loves classic movies…"

Shocked chocolate eyes met Serena's. "Oh no you don't, S! You don't get to throw another one of your _incredible_ friends on me!"

"Come on, B! He's a really great guy, and he'd totally be interested in you!"

Blair scoffed. "He's probably just some guy hoping for a quickie! I'm sorry, S, but my recent experience with EJ has made me renounce the male population." Blair picked up her glass in a mock toast. "Here's to being single for the rest of my life!"

Serena rolled her eyes at Blair's quick response. "Fine, just promise you'll keep an open mind?"

When Blair raised an skeptical brow, Serena rose her glass. "Or maintain civility?"

Blair smiled a bit, touching her own glass to Serena's. "I'm _always_ civil, my dear."

Serena offered a doubtful gaze and shook her head as the girls concluded their lunch, talking animatedly about their preparations for the night.

Little did they know, a dark-haired figure was just as eager to begin the celebration.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are adored :)


	5. Chapter 5: Nude Lipstick

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Once again, thanks to all who reviewed and signed up for alerts! I'll be sure to reply tomorrow: new to the site, so I'm still trying to get the hang of the functions! But thanks for your thoughts and your interest: you've really made me excited to take you on this trip :) Sorry for any errors, it's 3:00 AM on my side, but I had to get this chapter done since it's been a while since an update :) Once again, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

**Chapter 5: Nude Lipstick**

_Living under a cloud of black,_

_Udder a single word and watch the lightening strike,_

_Feel the roar of the thunder._

_Periods of calm are like tears dripping from a rainbow,_

_And life goes on._

_Donna A. Favors_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Several weeks had passed since the funeral, and Bart Bass had finally tied up the concluding arrangements for his wife's passing. Her family, who had discovered the news days following the funeral, had been enraged to hear of her concealed death after a sly freelance photographer managed to snap a couple of shots of the private funeral and release them to anxious newspapers spread across the East coast. Bart had managed to maintain secrecy in his wife's death for quite some time, and his useless allies hadn't alerted him on the released photos. _

_Following the release, he had been greeted with his mother-in-law's grieving stance as he entered his office on a cold Monday morning. She had thrown callous and degrading words at his selfish character. She had cursed the supposed love he had had for his deceased wife. She had ridiculed the birth of his nine-year-old son._

_Shortly after, she had burst into a fountain of uncontrolled tears. _

_Bart had replied with a cool exterior, calling security to usher the woman out of his office. After she had been removed, he had been met with countless voicemails and messages cursing his family name and threatening his life and that of his son. With the simplest of gestures, he had erased the messages and began his overseeing of weekly documentation shortly after._

_At present, though, the family couldn't do anything. They had neither power nor name to establish some sort of legal case against the head of Bass Industries. They were a simple country folk who had easily given their daughter to a wealthy businessman in times of economical distress. It was Bart who had betrayed them at the end, refusing them the decency to properly mourn for their child. _

_He hadn't even allowed them to visit her gravestone nor her son._

_Bart was currently lounging in his study, his hand clutching a glass of scotch as his eyes kept their direct gaze to the fireplace. It was quiet, dark as he fell into the common drunken stupor before bed. The leather chair had provided him much comfort throughout the earlier weeks._

_In Bart's mind, it had been the only thing to stay constant in the passing time._

_The large oak door of the study creaked open, yet Bart remained unaware of its sound. A small child, his brown hair combed elegantly to the side, his bowtie straight and proud after much strenuous effort before a mirror, peeked his head inside the study, watching his father continue his shadowy gaze towards the fire. Little Charles kept his eyes on his father for any sign of movement._

_He placed one foot inside the room, noted it was safe, and finally placed the other foot to join the former. His steps were quiet, light as he made his way into the room, stopping at the leather chair as the fire cast an eerie glow about him._

_He whispered one simple word. "Father?"_

_Bart Bass remained still, not even sparing his son a fleeting glance. Chuck gulped nervously, his left hand clenching and unclenching in apprehension. He couldn't control his nervousness. "I brought something for you."_

_The boy's hushed words were not enough to propel the man into interest. Chuck took a silent breath, his right hand lifting upward to present a marked sheet of paper to his father. "I received top marks in my class."_

_An eternity seemed to pass before Bart's eyes finally shifted to meet the sheet of paper. He took a long glance at the sheet, blind to the black marks, his eyes finally lifting to meet the identical eyes of his son. "Good job, son."_

_And with that, a tiny of glimmer of hope shone brightly in Chuck. _

_He offered an anxious smile at the rare attention, then continued more excitedly. "There's a ceremony tomorrow night for us and our parents. They'll be handing out the awards that night."_

_A long moment of stillness passed between the two. Finally, Bart spoke. "I'm sure Javier can accompany you for the night."_

_Silence._

_Chuck's eyes filled with clear and traitorous tears. He waited a moment to see if his father would continue, but Bart returned his gaze to the fireplace and would not move from it._

_Finally, Chuck spoke with a defeated voice. "Yes, Father."_

_He nodded slowly and made his way out of the study, retreating to his room to complete his homework. _

_Hours later, when schoolchildren of the Upper East Side slept soundly in their warm beds, little Charles would return to the study, place a worn blanket atop his father's sleeping form, set the alarm clock for Bart Bass, and depart to sleep._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

As the prompt chiming of the grandfather clock made its presence known in the apartment, a foreign maid strode to Miss Waldorf's room to awaken her from her nap. The maid, Dorota, had been with the Waldorf family for many years and had been assigned as Blair's personal aid when Miss Blair had been ten years old.

Dorota had always been fond the brown-eyed gem. She had been Blair's second mother since birth, always present during Blair's tumultuous childhood and her general progression into modeling.

It was Dorota who had suggested to Eleanor her daughter's true beauty one evening as she served Eleanor her nightly tea. A ten-year-old Blair had been studiously reading a book in the study, and with Dorota's suggestion, Eleanor had taken a more serious interest in her daughter. From that moment forward, an overly excited Blair had been steered into modeling and had continued that progression until adulthood. Blair would always appreciate the role that her maid played in her life. She had become one of her most trusted confidantes.

With a purposeful stride, Dorota entered Miss Blair's room and tugged the curtains open to reveal the New York night sky. The form in the bed shifted under the noise. Dorota placed a gentle hand on Blair's hidden form.

"Miss Blair? Time to wake up."

Blair groaned in her sleep, tugging the covers tighter around her thin frame, her feet searching for warmth beneath the blankets. "I'm tired, Dorota. Wake me in a couple of hours."

Dorota chuckled at Blair's obvious dismay, glancing quickly at her bedside clock. "Time for party, Miss Blair. Eight-o-clock."

With an alarmed gasp, Blair threw the covers chaotically over her form, her eyes wide and in shock. "Christ! Serena's going to kill me!"

She flung herself away from the warmth of the bed and sprinted to her closet, rapidly returning with a cocktail dress. It was a ruched black dress in flowing silk chiffon, with an elegant bow at the empire waist and thin straps at the back neck. Quickly tugging on a pair of midnight black tights, she darted to her dresser for her simple makeup application. Skin-toned eye shadow to shade her lids, a fleeting swipe of black mascara, and a simple touch of nude lipstick would complete the look. The more heavier makeup was for her modeling sessions; out in public, Blair tended to stick with a more effortless look.

As she placed the final touches on her makeup, the phone beside her beeped in alert of a new message. She glanced at the text.

_**I'll see you tonight, no? – EJ**_

Without a second thought, Blair quickly deleted the message. She rolled her eyes at the man's obvious forwardness. Did he really think she would be so quick to take him back after his _ridiculous_ stunt? Not only did he lie to her about his real whereabouts that weekend (he had told her he was off for a _business_ meeting in Sicily!), but he tried to rebuff the accusation even with Blair's evidence!

And what evidence she had obtained, _indeed_.

Tabloid magazines were truly a godsend in those days. She had received pictures of EJ's revealing… positions with one of his father's blonde business associates atop his yacht in Australia. When the bastard finally returned, grins and _smiles_ after his _stressful _weekend, she had been enraged when he attempted to deny them.

_"Blair, dear, are you really going to believe some photo shopped pictures?"_

Damn that insufferable man! _And _even after she had harshly ended their relationship, the arrogant creature was still calling and texting her incessantly. Ugh.

She sighed. She, as well as her family, had been smitten with his superior accent and charming debonair. He was a European man, with a handsome face and reasonable features. Richer than her own family, classically educated in the finest universities of Europe, he seemed to be the perfect match for the equally advantageous Blair Waldorf.

But once again, another of many men had cruelly broken her heart in some form of untrust.

Was there _any _man in this world who wasn't dishonest in some way?

As Blair placed a final swipe of her lipstick, she came to many conclusions.

First, all men were vile creatures strolling the face of the earth. Second, a natural look was far more fitting for her complexion.

And third, love was truly overrated.

A ringing interrupted her thoughts, and Blair was prepared to erase another one of EJ's pathetic attempts at a conversation. However, Blair sighed in relief when she saw Serena's name.

"On my way out right now, S," she explained, hearing the deafening music in the backround and grinning slightly.

_"What's taking you so long?! I thought I said to be here at eight, B!"_

"Just mulling over my perfect love life," she offered as Serena returned with a throaty laugh.

_"Well, if you could hurry up your happy thoughts, maybe you can make it to celebrate your best friend's 25th birthday??"_

Blair smiled, glancing at her reflection and happily satisfied with the outcome. "I'll be there soon!"

After finishing the call, she threw the dress over her form with ease, grabbing a fur wrap and a matching clutch. The sharp heels of her Jimmy Choos clacked behind her as she waved goodbye to Dorota and rushed into her awaiting limo. The limo pulled away from the curb and began its drive towards Victrola.

A few moments after the limo had departed, Chuck Bass tossed a cigarette out his window and pulled away from the curb, following the limo with caution as it made its way to the nightclub.

He was fully prepared to greet Blair Waldorf for the first time.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed! Here's to hoping CB finally have a reunion next chapter: we'll see how well Chuck behaves on Monday's GG eppie :) Thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing: it's truly your comments that compel me to write for you :)

I'll hope to have an update sometime mid/late next week. Things will definitely start to pick up: stay tuned!

Once again, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: Sharp Heels

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Once again, thanks to all who reviewed and signed up for alerts! So sorry this chapter was kinda late! But the CB fun is just about to begin :) AND I'm working on something for all you faithful readers out there! That's been keeping me occupied, but I do hope you'll enjoy where this story is headed. It's extremely delicious to write this sexy and deceptive Chuck. Enjoy!

**Chapter 6: Sharp Heels**

_"Know her mind and you have her body. Know her heart and you have her soul."_

_Anonymous_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Saddened eyes turned to the form atop the chair. The young boy, merely nine years of age, kept his head down, swinging his legs back and forth in the chair._

_Mrs. Kline, an elderly woman with gray curls resting comfortably to her shoulders, sighed in resignation and moved forward, her knees bending harshly as she lowered to face the child. The boy refused to look up, instead focusing on the rhythmic beating of his legs on the chair. His mint-green bowtie was adjusted perfectly, and his white button-down shirt revealed no creases or wrinkles, instead exquisitely ironed, his white knee socks rushing downward to meet the black leather of his cleaned school shoes._

_Most children would have dirtied themselves throughout the day, or simply a hair brushed out of place. In fact, it was common for Mrs. Kline to keep extra shirts and jackets for the children to return to their parents as they had been sent._

_But not Chuck Bass. Never Chuck Bass. The little boy dressed older than his nine years and maintained a sense of perfection and order in an otherwise extremely unstable world. Never a hair out of place, never a scuffed shoe, and never a tear-struck face._

_"Chuck? Would you like me to call someone?"_

_The little boy stopped his swinging and looked up, his face showing signs of unshed tears as shown by the watery pools in his eyes. He merely nodded, bottom lip shaking slightly but surely as the elder woman lifted upward, returning to her desk and leafing through her files for the emergency cards she had dutifully organized._

_Chuck Bass was silent. The only sound in the room was Mrs. Kline's gently flipping of the cards to find his own. He turned his head, his eyes meeting the bulletin board of pasted reports written by the students for Parent/Student Day._

_His report was the first one, neatly written and stapled, easily identified amongst the scrawls and disorganized writing of his classmates._

_His title was proud and true, and he had spent hours perfecting his writing for the event._

_"Why My Role Model Is My Dad."_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Serena's 25th birthday party was in full swing by the time Blair arrived at the nightclub. A young, dark haired man greeted Blair at her limo, offering his hand to the newest arrival. Blair kindly returned the gesture, allowing the man to gently ease her out of her vehicle. Loud music echoed throughout the street as numerous lights glowed in the night sky. Many more people were just arriving to the event, and plentiful flashes occurred as eager friends rapidly snapped photos of themselves at the high society occasion. Blair nodded in acceptance as many flashes from freelance photographers greeted her entrance. Serena's birthday party had been a much anticipated affair in the Upper East Side for quite some time, so Blair wasn't too surprised to find the photographers eagerly waiting for a means to establish a story.

With a final smile, Blair turned to her accompany and entered the nightspot.

Victrola had been easily transformed for Serena's event. Swift flashes of red, blue, and purple beams swung rapidly around the room, illuminating the club in strokes of vibrant colors. Socialites laughed loudly and drank excessively. Many waitresses walked the perimeter, holding trays laden with tall glasses of drink. Piercing music thundered through the nightclub, offering an envious setting for a 25th birthday party.

Serena, dressed in the black tulip dress she had tried on earlier that day at the disastrous event in the mall, eagerly waved to Blair and pushed her way through the crowd around her to meet her equally eager best friend.

"Took you long enough!"

Blair smiled, offering Serena a package clearly wrapped in golden foil. "I couldn't have forgotten the present, could I?"

Serena squealed, grabbing the present quickly and offering her friend a gracious smile. "B, I said no presents, remember?!" But even Serena couldn't hide the glee clearly etched on her face.

Blair gave Serena a playful shove. "That rule isn't enforceable for the _best_ friend, now is it?!"

Serena shook her head in acceptance, handing the gift to a nearby waiter and giving him clear instructions on where to place the gift.

"So where's Dan?" Blair questioned, her eyes scanning the room for Serena's latest boy woe. She took notice of her high school friends, Kati and Iz, drinking their soberness away at the bar. She recognized many of the other guests, noting the party seemed to have its fair share of good entertainment. "Has he seen you yet?"

Serena offered a sneaky smile, waving her phone to Blair. "Just texted me to tell me he'll be here soon."

Blair hugged Serena warmly. "It'll be perfect!"

The girls gushed over the other's outfit and the guests who had arrived. Blair gave a disgusted face when she discovered that Daniela Standi, resident _whore _of the Upper East Side, had felt compelled to come to the event. Blair wasn't sure if the girl had a _death_ wish, for Serena and Daniela had been engaged in a huge rivalry over Dan when he had arrived with Serena at a socialite event months earlier. To say that the night didn't go well had been an _understatement_. Serena and Daniela had exchanged insults and were about to make the cover of an eager tabloid magazine had Blair not stepped in. But that was what best friends were for, right?

When Kati and Iz waved anxiously to Blair, Blair excused herself to greet her older friends. The trio chatted aimlessly about the success of the party and toasted to Serena's healthy age, gossiping anxiously over Daniela's rude obsession with Dan.

Serena was about to make her way to join the girls when she felt a warm hand on her arm. "Happy birthday, Serena."

Serena turned to see a dashing Chuck Bass, dressed in khaki pants, a yellow button-down shirt, and a red jacket to accentuate the flurry of colors. Serena smiled sincerely, offering the man a tender hug. "Chuck! I'm so glad you could make it!"

Chuck was caught off guard and awkwardly returned the gesture, his eyes quickly scanning the room for any signs of his target. When he saw her dim form resting near the bar, he pulled away from Serena, returning a smile.

"Thanks for the invite. I hope I'm not too late…?"

Serena shook her head. "No, actually you're just in time! I'd actually like to introduce you to a _friend_ of mine…"

And with that, Serena gestured to the dark brunette, who excused herself politely and made her way over to the duo.

His breath halted.

This was _not _what she had looked like in the dark night sky, her form sliding into the awaiting limo.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

Her chocolate hair cascaded in dark, effortless curls past her shoulders. The dress wasn't too open or revealing, but it offered a considerable amount of delicious leg as the end came up to her mid-thigh. Her sharp black heels gave her legs endless length, and her eyes were dark and proud against the vibrant beams of color.

Tempting eyes.

Endless leg.

Sharp heels.

Sun-kissed skin.

And full lips _certainly_ inviting.

He smirked devilishly as she stood before him, a cool exterior protecting her heated frame.

Blair found herself also entranced by the handsome figure standing before her.

Strong and attractive features grinned at her. Dark hair combed elegantly to the side. The sharp angles of his face, his curious and inquisite eyes.

His eyes watched her humorously, and Blair found herself heat up at his watchful gaze.

Serena offered a sneaky smile as she watched the reaction, and she quickly turned to Blair. "I'd like you to meet Chuck."

Chuck kept his smirk as he pulled Blair's shaking hand up to his lips, placing the gentlest of kisses upon the skin. "_Very_ nice to meet you."

His lips were soft, barely there, like butterfly wings, but they sent a flash of pure power through her veins. He kept his dark eyes locked with hers, and Blair felt herself flush from the tippy toes of her Jimmy Choos to the last hair on her head.

She felt like the heroine of a black and white movie, increasingly tempted by the gentleman standing before her.

But suddenly, she remembered her silent promise.

Her eyes had suddenly widened at his forward gesture, his thumb tenderly stroking her hand.

"It's a common greeting in Paris," Serena exclaimed, offering a knowing gaze to Blair. She knew when her best friend was tensed up. "You know, where he's _from_…"

But it was a _forward_ gesture, nonetheless.

Blair smiled too-sweetly, amused eyes kept with the eyes of her tempter. "Well, Mr. Chuck can most certainly keep his _forward_ lips to himself."

And with that, she pulled her hand away roughly, her smile quickly disappearing as she escaped the scene with a swish of her curls and a faint scent of Dior in her wake.

And then, she was gone. Chuck felt the earlier warmth of her skin disappear. He grinned, keeping his amused eyes trained on her retreating form. "Is she always so… _friendly_?"

Serena sighed. "I'm sorry. She's usually not like this." She turned to Chuck. "She just got out of a bad relationship, and she _kinda_ swore off men for good."

Chuck, of course, knew all of this. The information of her boyfriend's recent betrayal had been quite simple to obtain, for it _was_ blasted through all of the tabloids of the East coast. The couple had been destined for marriage and happiness, but the pictures of the man atop his father's yacht most certainly proved otherwise.

His grin grew wider as he fully contemplated his father's assignment. "For good, eh?"

Chuck would see about that.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed! I know I hoped for a more fulfilling CB meeting, but Chuck wasn't too appreciated on last week's GG eppie, so I had to make do. I do promise, though, that next chapter will be FULL of CB interaction. Now that I've set the scene for all you faithful readers, the fun will begin with CB :)

Thanks for reading! Reviews are adored :)


	7. Chapter 7: Tough Scotch

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Once again, thanks to all who reviewed and signed up for alerts! I'm so sorry this chapter took forever to update: last week was hellish and I just got down to writing today. I do hope to have another chapter up by the end of the week, but don't quote me! Real life does take some wild turns. As always, enjoy, and reviews are adored :)

**Chapter 7: Tough Scotch**

_"Nothing great was every achieved without enthusiasm."_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_It had been a most_ _frustrating week to be Bart Bass, head of one of the most successful businesses currently housed in Australia. His accounts had been temporarily frozen due to legality issues, he had lost billions of dollars in a foreign account, and he had recently fired his newest secretary due to her lack of what he deemed common sense. Why would the brainless woman think she could take care of the important documentation he needed to see before printing?_

_Even more disappointing, recent interviews with potential secretaries had been less than successful._

_Was it so difficult to find simple help these days?_

_He entered his ritual coffee shop, a small café located a couple of blocks from the Australian headquarters of Bass Industries. Keeping his eyes trained on documents help firmly by a trained hand, he stopped at the counter and prepared to order his usual hazelnut coffee with three shots of heavy espresso. He was going to need it for the day he was predicting for himself. _

_However, he heard an unfamiliar voice of a woman break into his thoughts. "What can I get for you today?"_

_Immediately not recognizing his usual server, Terri, his eyes lifted upward to collide with the beautiful blue orbs of a blonde waitress. _

_Her eyes were an endless sea of sapphire, and her short blonde bob stopped loosely at her shoulders, a look most certainly inspired by the European fashion of the time. He found himself dumbfounded by the obviously American woman currently replacing his most loved Terri. "You speak English, right?" she questioned, her accent showcasing a hint of a New Jersey background. "This is an American café."_

_He nodded slowly, finally finding the voice to return the angel's question. "Where's Terrie?"_

_The blonde shrugged, chewing expertly at her gum and grabbing an assortment of drink ingredients. "All's I heard was that her boyfriend came by last night and got on his knee." She turned to him with a sneaky smile. "The two eloped this morning."_

_Bart Bass furrowed his brows in confusion. "She had a boyfriend?"_

_The blonde did not respond, instead finishing up his rapidly made drink and handing it to the confused elder. "You seem like the hard coffee kind-a-guy, am I right?"_

_Bart nodded, unable to form a logical thought in front of this carefree character._

_"Well, here's a little taste of the wild side of café drinking," the woman winked, handing him a white drink. "Try it. It's my own product."_

_Bart eyed the concoction warily, the whipped cream and topped caramel unfamiliar to the espresso-drinking tycoon. However, he obeyed the woman's orders and took a generous sip of the Starbucks-like potion. _

_He liked it._

_Before he left the café, his eyes had shifted to the nametag on the woman's uniform, memorizing the name for future reference._

_Misty Etherest._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The next hour passed by in a blur for Chuck. Immediately after Blair had left the duo, Dan Humphrey had arrived at the scene, and his presence immediately occupied Serena for the time being. Chuck, who needed time to prepare his next move, embraced Serena's diverted attention and took a relaxed seat at the open bar. He ordered a simple scotch, and the bartender expertly filled a glass with amber liquid.

The liquid burned heavily down his throat. Chuck squeezed his eyes tightly against its strength, immediately yearning for the alcohol of Europe. Parisian scotch was never quite as tough. In fact, in Paris, scotch would slide down the throat in a far more soothing manner than the American scotch. How fitting.

Tough scotch truly mirrored the rough nature of the American girls.

His mind rapidly flashed to a leggy brunette. She was beautiful: no question on that matter. But what perturbed him the most was that her beauty was far more _rewarding_ in person. The collection of modeling pictures his father had provided him with showcased a tidy Blair Waldorf, excessively dolled up to the expectations of her employers. The fashion was exuberant, the makeup was flawless, and he was certain that the creamy complexion of her skin provided her one less thing to worry about in the competitive market of fashion modeling. Chuck had worked with many modeling accounts in his time to know that fashion models usually offered the most beautiful poses when fully worked on by jittery interns.

But to see her in person was a far different experience.

He was incredibly certain that her eyes held the deep hue of burned chocolate. Every dark curl was placed in the most perfect manner. A compelling bone structure that was sure to be envied by any high-fashion model of European brand.

And full lips he couldn't seem to _escape_.

For the next hour, many women approached Chuck and attempted to learn more about this newest bachelor in the premises. Word had gotten around the social event of the European bachelor currently lounging at the bar, with no obvious woman in sight (or thrown casually around his arm). With such a fulfilling invitation, a secretly uninterested Chuck would have to feign attention to such women, nodding at the opportune moments and flashing a quick smile to show his kindly nature.

After all, he did want these characters to _trust_ him.

He didn't want to arouse suspicion in any way.

Before he handed the stewardess his first-class ticket in Paris, his father had reminded Chuck (the last time of a billion) to avoid bringing the company's name up in any way. First, the possibility of losing current and potential clients was an important matter. Second, Bart wanted to avoid the pretenses Bass Industries would bring to the assignment, for Bart had left behind some committed clients and enraged stockbrokers when he made the decision to move to Paris.

The company's name would have to remain hidden for the entire assignment.

His story was always the same: born and raised in the US, moving to Europe for his father's business (a small jewelry establishment of unknown status in the states), taking some personal time from work to consider some career changes, planning to remain in the country for a couple more weeks. No, he did not have a girlfriend at the present moment. Yes, he was a new friend of Serena's. Yes, he was finding the states to be pleasantly entertaining.

No, he had never met Prince Harry.

And fortunately for him, the girls realized his lack of interest and scurried away.

After nursing his third glass of scotch, his eyes finally found the form of Blair Waldorf. He had been watching her out of the corner of his eye during the entire ordeal with the countless women who had flooded his personal space. It had seemed, however, that the flood had finally washed away and he was to be left with his own thoughts for the rest of the night. His heart lifted in happiness.

He inwardly grinned as she sat, quite uncomfortably, a few inches away from Dan and Serena, who were wasting no time in mauling each other in public. The duo had obviously sorted out their problems for five minutes and had begun to show their open affection to all interested parties.

Blair, however, kept her eyes glued on the ground, dark curls long and flowing and perfectly in place, hands folded on her lap pristinely, her gaze finding some sort of interest in the bland floor tiling of the club.

Just as he was about to approach her for a well-planned conversation (he had studied her enough for the past few days to know her exact responses to his carefully posed questions), he saw another dark figure make his way to the obviously annoyed brunette.

With trained eyes, he immediately recognized the dark figure as EJ, Blair's ex-boyfriend. The European was tall (a bit too tall for Blair's height, he noted), honestly built, and dressed a bit casually as compared to others. EJ was seemingly trying to charm Blair, who was attempting to ignore the character by keeping her eyes steady on the tiling and refusing his advances. Finally, when the European charmer was met with Blair's frightening glare, in a blatant attempt to reject his advances, EJ returned with a bright smile, fingers curling around her arm and tugging her form loosely upward to meet his eyes.

Instantly, Chuck saw red. He felt his blood boil at the callous way the man was treating Blair. When Blair made an attempt to pull her arm out of the man's death grip, EJ merely tugged even tighter.

His fingers seemed to be bruising into the tender flesh.

With a set jaw, Chuck grabbed his drink and made his way over to a struggling Blair, who was attempting to pull out of EJ's hold without attracting any unnecessary attention and possibly ruining Serena's birthday party.

Blair Waldorf. Always taking care of others, no matter the cost to herself.

"EJ, I said NO –"

"What seems to be the problem?"

EJ's enraged eyes met the dark eyes of Chuck Bass, and he flashed a perceptibly fake smile, releasing Blair at once. "No problem here."

The two held a gaze for a few moments, and Chuck turned his eyes to Blair to assess her condition. Her deep brown orbs held a terrified glow to them, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in a nervous habit. He brought a comforting arm around her, pulling her shivering form closer to his. "I do hope you're not upsetting Miss Waldorf here."

EJ sneered. "The lady and I were just talking; that's all."

Chuck nodded slowly, deliberately showing his distrust of the fellow. "You're sure Miss Waldorf will attest to that?"

A moment of silence passed. EJ offered a frightening grin, bringing a relaxed hand to rub gently at the stubble on his chin. "I'm sure she will."

Chuck turned to Blair, who had shifted her terrified eyes back to EJ's cold ones. She made an attempt to speak, blatantly looking like a petrified liar in front of EJ's smirking gaze. Chuck narrowed his eyes, resting a hand on the small curve of her back.

"A jealous ex-boyfriend, I presume?"

Shocked eyes turned to meet the narrow eyes of Chuck Bass, and she made no move to speak.

EJ, however, grew enraged at Chuck's simple response. "Who the hell do you think you _are_?"

Chuck returned with his signature smirk, and he turned to Blair to meet her stunned reaction. "A drink, Miss Waldorf?"

And Blair realized his most carefully orchestrated plan. She returned with a sneaky smile, looping an arm into his offered one and meeting EJ's surprised gaze. "I'd love to."

And with that, the duo sauntered over to the bar, leaving a stunned and enraged EJ in their wake.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed! CB will have a more fulfilling conversation next chapter: stay tuned!

As always, thanks for reading! Reviews are adored :)


	8. Chapter 8: Candy Red Apple

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **New chapter! Once again, thanks to ALL who signed up for alerts and offered their thoughts: it means much more to me than you'll ever know! Just to see that there is interest in what I put out there really makes it all worth it! Enjoy the chapter :)

**Chapter 8: Candy Red Apple**

_"Sooner or later something goes amiss;  
The singing birds pack up and fly away;  
So never try to trick me with a kiss:  
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. ."_

_Sylvia Plath, "Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"Scotch for me," Chuck ordered as the duo took their seats at the open bar, "and a candy red apple martini for the lady."

Blair raised an incredulous brow after she was settled in her seat, clearly surprised. "That's my favorite drink."

Chuck smirked, twirling the amber liquid in his glass lazily, his eyes boring deep into her suspicious form. Of course it was her favorite drink. She ordered the _same_ concoction with Serena every time the two sauntered off to their nightclubs every evening. _And_ she never finished the red liquid, always leaving the glass half full before departing the club.

Another item on the list of her monotonous life.

"I'm very talented at pairing a drink with a companion," he replied. "Most women do enjoy its sweetness."

His subtle charm, however, most certainly did not amuse Miss Waldorf.

She merely rolled her eyes inwardly, showcasing her disbelief. "So what's your story? Serena tells me you're from France."

The bar was pleasantly away from prying ears and eyes, the perfect place to hold their first conversation.

It was as if the heavens itself was coordinating everything to perfection so Chuck could charm this Waldorf heiress. Every event that had led him to this _perfectly_ planned moment had been completely to his advantage. Serena's abrupt message at the coffee shop, Dan Humphrey's arrival in time for Chuck to be rid of Serena for the time being, EJ's forward advances on an obviously annoyed Blair.

He was certain that the entire universe was conspiring to _help_ him.

"I'm in the country for some business."

There. Simple, mundane responses of his life in Paris so she wouldn't ask too many questions.

But enough of a response to invoke her interest.

She seemed to study his appearance, eyes trailing downward to analyze his overzealous style. His outfit wasn't one that was commonly modeled on the Upper East Side, but it surprised her that she thought it suited him well.

Gave him a bit of individuality in a world clouded by masks and overdone appearances.

Bottom lip tugged between her teeth, eyes narrow and critical, fingers drumming gently against the counter of the bar top, she studied him intensely.

He allowed her critical note-taking.

Finally, when she seemed to have decided that he posed no danger, and that her interest could be _heightened_ (most privately, of course), she lifted her eyes to him, curious to learn more about this handsome suitor.

"A European man, huh? Where's your accent?"

Chuck smiled, taking a generous helping of his scotch. Her blatant questions unconsciously thrilled him. Her attempted disinterest just provoked him even more. "Born and raised here in New York, Miss Waldorf. My father and I moved to Paris when I was ten years old."

A ghost of a smile settled on her face. "Miss Waldorf makes me sound so _old_. Please don't call me that."

She was _paving_ the way for him. "Then what would you like me to call you?"

Brows furrowed a bit and eyes narrowed, she seemed to swirl the contents of his question in her martini glass. A moment of silence passed between the two, and finally she spoke. "Blair."

He nodded slowly, murmuring softly, his eyes never leaving her orbs as he spoke. "Beautiful name, Blair."

For a simple moment, the blaring music died down to a fleeting intensity.

She became hypnotized. His soothing voice, his devilish smirk, the intensity of his dark gaze as it lingered on her form. She found herself drowning in the depth of caramel that his eyes currently sported. With the dim lights of the nightclub, she couldn't exactly make out his most detailed features, but the sharp angles of his jaw and the profound gaze he was offering her alone was making her somewhat lightheaded.

Like standing up abruptly after resting.

His spell wore off, however, and the nightclub's loud music rose in strength, bringing her back to the social event of the season. Suddenly, she remembered she was at Victrola's to celebrate Serena's 25th birthday party, and this devilish suitor with his hypnotizing eyes was most secretly _seducing _her!

When she could form a logical thought, she smirked silently to herself. Did he _really _know who he was dealing with?

Blair Waldorf did not _melt _under the intensity of a heated gaze.

"You use that line on all the girls?" Then, she leaned forward, resting her palm on his upper thigh. "Or am I just _lucky_?"

The people and events around them seemed to freeze in time.

His eyes shifted to her hand placed gently on his thigh. Then, he lifted amused eyes to meet her sneaky ones. "Why don't we _find out_?"

This was too, too easy. She was _melting_ in the palm of his hand! He would have no problem finding the dirt on this all-too-eager Blair Waldorf.

One night with him, and he would have her confessing everything, from cheating on a math test in a fifth grade classroom to the one piece of information that would destroy her career. _And_ he was a betting man to believe it could be _tonight_, if he played his cards right.

After a moment of hesitation, she smiled, leaning forward until their lips were a mere breath apart. Her hair shielded their faces from prying eyes, her palm sliding upward so that her fingers curled around his belt buckle. His eyes shut in pleasure at the light touch, lips parting ever so slightly to meet her advance. One more second, a simple _lean_ forward, and it would be done.

All it would take was one thrust in a secluded room, and he'd have her screaming her indiscretions in record time.

It would begin with a gentle kiss. Then, murmured promises whispered hotly in her ear as she clawed most desperately at his bare back, thighs wrapped most tightly around his lean waist, sweaty palms clutching the sheets below him as he continually pounded-

A cooling sensation swiftly doused his thoughts.

His eyes widened in surprise as he looked downward, a red blotchy stain clearly etched on his pants. Then, he lifted his eyes to meet her amused face, the empty martini glass held triumphantly between her fingers, her form easily hovering over his stupefied character when she stood. "Save your cheap lines for the easy girls, Mr. Chuck."

And then, she whipped around, leaving a faint scent of perfume and a bewildered Chuck with a red stain seeping deep into his khaki pants.

For the first time, she had finished her drink.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

With the air of superiority she deserved, Blair stomped over to her best friend (current _ex_ best friend, she noted) and her lover, tapping impatiently at her shoulder as Serena and Dan cuddled over their latest renewal.

"I'm leaving, S."

That seemed to seize Serena's attention. The blonde turned shocked eyes to Blair, glancing at her watch quickly to note the early hour. "It's not even midnight yet, Blair!"

Blair huffed with annoyance, grabbing her coat and bag resting by the duo. "Let's just say I'm not in the party mood."

Serena promptly pulled Blair to the side, excusing herself from a physically exhausted Dan, who clearly understood when Blair needed Serena's attention. "What happened, B?"

Blair turned around swiftly to see her handsome seducee had escaped the scene, with no delay, to avoid the utter humiliation of it all. Did he really think a cheap compliment would have her _melting_ beneath his gaze?

"Other than EJ trying to maul me in public and your newest friend _proving_ why I hate men, everything is just _peachy_."

Serena sighed, clutching at her best friend's arms in a desperate move. "We can talk about Chuck tomorrow, B. Just promise you won't leave my birthday party?" With a puppy-dog face only reserved for emergencies, Serena was pulling at all she had to keep Blair from leaving. "Please, Blair?"

Blair huffed in resignation, offering a slight smile. "You and your puppy-dog eyes, Serena."

The two shared a laugh and a tender hug.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Outside the nightclub, Chuck Bass was climbing into his BMW.

A sinful smirk was etched on his face.

Oh, Blair Waldorf would be _his._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are adored :) Have a great weekend!


	9. Chapter 9: Ivory Sheets

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all readers! I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 9: Ivory Sheets**

_"__A dreamer is one who c__an only find his way by moonlight, _

_and his punishment is that he sees the dawn _

_before the rest of the world.__"_

_Oscar Wilde_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_It felt good to be drunk._

_A dark night sky had claimed the Upper East Side. Bart Bass sat comfortably in his vehicle, a bottle of crisp scotch nestled tightly in his hand as he kept his gaze on the apartment complex before him. His eyes flickered to his handwatch, noting the incredibly late hour. Sighing heavily, he tipped the bottle and finished the liquid, enjoying the burning sensation as it traveled down his throat in a vengeful manner._

_It felt **amazing** to be drunk. _

_On any other day, Bart would have been found in his home office, completing some last-minute paperwork before retreating to his bedroom for the evening. It had been a difficult week at Bass Industries with fidgety buyers unsure of their "commitment", and Bart felt the exhaustion of the work week settle tightly between his shoulder blades. Being an entrepreneur certainly meant long and tiring hours, but he desperately yearned for a roaring fire, a delicious meal, and some well-deserved rest._

_Yet, here he was for the evening, sitting uselessly in his BMW outside of a New York apartment complex, the mind-blowing events of the day continually repeating like a car crash. _

_The ones that had the most devastating effects, but you still replayed the scene over and over to analyze every angle before the impact._

_After what seemed an eternity, two women exited the complex, heads huddled close together as they kept their conversation to themselves. One of them, a woman Bart knew all too well and the reason for his late surveillance, had evidently been crying, as her reddened face and tear-stained cheeks were visible, even in the night. The other, a tall brunette, laid a comforting arm on the woman's shoulders, helping the shaking woman ease into her limo that had been conveniently parked outside the complex for quite some time._

_A deep, searing anger bubbled dangerously underneath the surface of Bart's form. Did she really know who she was dealing with? All it took was one night, one simple event, and he would become the bad guy in the entire situation. _

_The elder and crying woman had her entire family to shield her from her misdeeds and the city's gossip._

_Bart Bass would still become the scorn of public eye. _

_After all, a scandalous affair could always be stemmed back to the man's misgivings._

_Hadn't he given her everything she could possibly ask for? The most sought-after jewels? The endless money supply to support her fashion wants?_

_A willing body in the late hours of the night?_

_Hadn't he been the most **perfect** husband?_

_A loud, blaring noise shook Bart out of his reverie, reminding him of the city that never slept. The limo in front of his black BMW pulled away, but Bart remained in the vehicle hours long after it had departed._

_After all, a single-handedly destroyed marriage deserved some thought._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Soft, billowing curtains floated gently in the breeze. The ivory material rustled smoothly in a dancing motion, separating slightly to reveal matching ivory sheets resting comfortably atop a mahogany bed. The exquisite garden showcased wild flowers of every shape and color as they bowed slightly to the mysterious bedding that seemed to float in the enchanted wonderland of bright colors._

_Suddenly, she felt his palms._

_The warmest of hands traced the curve of her hips, finally clutching the tender flesh in an intimate embrace, lifting her bottom slightly off the ivory sheets. She arched in pleasure, teeth tugging at her bottom lip, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her mind somewhat noted her own palms desperately clutching the sheets below her as his hands continued their curious and somewhat dangerous trek across her pale skin. _

_Then, lips pressed heatedly against the skin of her abdomen, warming the area. The heated contact made her gasp slightly, eyes shutting tightly against the cooling breeze shifting the curtains as his lips trailed slowly down her abdomen._

_Skimming the surface until they reached the most private of places._

_His breath warmed the area, palms pausing slightly from their unknown journey. Her hands unfisted the sheets and ran upward, in a somewhat frantic urgency, feeling the muscles of his arms relax under her supple touch. Her hands reached the dark hair and clutched at it desperately, brows furrowing in confusion at the thickness of the locks._

_Funny. She couldn't recall such thick hair…_

_Her eyes opened slightly, peering downward at the figure in obvious curiosity. At that exact moment, her visitor lifted his head upward to greet his temptress, and her heart nearly jumped out as the identity of her unknown lover became known._

_Caramel orbs met the shocked chocolate eyes of Blair Waldorf._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blair awoke with a start.

Beads of sweat clung freely to her brow and back, heart slowly stilling in beats as the reality of her dream finally hit her.

This particular one had been a lot more revealing than the previous ones. In recent days, her dreams would stop at the heat that the man's lips brought to her abdomen. However, her dream had continued for the first time, and she had finally met the character who had invaded her night thoughts for the past few days.

None other than _Chuck_.

Forward Chuck. Impressionistic Chuck. Stylish Chuck.

With eyes so warm she nearly lost herself in the depths of their color.

An infuriating Chuck with the sharp jaw, the most soothing of voices, inviting full lips …

Blair groaned in resignation, hand falling to her brow as she recalled the familiar caramel color of Chuck's eyes. _Why_ was she having these sexual dreams about a man she had spent less than _ten_ minutes with?

A man who had humiliated her as well!

She hadn't seen Chuck or had contact with him in recent days, and it had been a week since Serena's soiree at Victrola's. Serena and Dan had continued their tumultuous love affair, but Chuck's name had been left out of her and Serena's conversations.

Which would make sense. Serena had sensed Blair's obvious discomfort that night following her time with Chuck. The two hadn't talked about the events that had prompted Chuck to leave the social event in such a hurry. However, Serena knew enough about her best friend to know that she must have had some role in Chuck's abrupt exit. After all, a guest didn't just scurry out of the most anticipated party of the year without some clear reason to depart.

And the way Blair had been so repulsed by Chuck following their conversation at the bar, Serena could guess who had driven Chuck away.

With his red-stained khaki pants, of course.

Then, the dreams had begun.

The first night, the night after Serena's birthday party, she had seen the bed sitting in a beautifully ornate garden, the ruffled curtains wrapped around the structure, evidently hiding the ivory material of the bed.

The second night, his hands had caressed the skin at her hips.

By the fifth night, his lips had pressed deeply into her skin, leaving her with a warmth she couldn't seem to forget.

And tonight, the seventh night since the dreams had begun their slow torture, she had finally discovered that her midnight "visitor" was none other than Mr. Chuck!

Even though the two had been together for such a short amount of time, Blair couldn't seem to rid herself of the warmth she would feel at his touch.

He grasped not with a desperate urgency, a caress she was familiar with, but rather with a curious desire to seek deep into her soul and discover her most dangerous of secrets.

His lips were not demanding and tough against her flesh, but rather soft and discovering.

And when he would pause at her core, she would nearly weep at the sudden desire she felt.

A familiar ring tone interrupted her traitorous thoughts. Blair's arm shot out from under the navy covers to her cell phone at her nightstand, flipping the phone over expertly to read her newest message.

**_Lunch at noon today at Pettroza's! Don't be late! – S_**

Her eyes shot to the clock beside her bed, noting the time.

11:03. She supposed she still had time to get ready for Serena's lunch invitation.

It would be a welcome distraction from her thoughts of a certain set of caramel eyes.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

It was a frigid afternoon: icicles hung lazily outside Blair's apartment as she wrapped her black and white patterned wool coat even tighter around her. The Italian restaurant wasn't too far from her home, so she had donned a pair of comfortable Michael Kors flats, midnight black tights, a long and form-fitting wool coat with a matching wool hat, and began her trek to meet Serena and Dan for lunch.

Although the cold weather was a damper on many New York spirits, Blair truly did not mind a chilly winter. Many people complained of the driving conditions and the toe-curling cold, but many seemed to forget the wonders of nature that were only revealed under a white blanketed city. In fact, she loved the image of a wintry wonderland, trees glistening with white sparkling show, frozen ponds glistening a silver color, drooping icicles hanging exquisitely among the ledges of buildings. New York was a beautiful place in the winter. It reminded her of her childhood, hand clutching at her mother's as they made their way to the most fashionable of stores for Blair's wardrobe collection, sipping on hot chocolate as they strolled down the shopping streets, aware of only themselves and their happiness.

Her mind drifted to her mother's earlier phone call. Just as she was about to head out, Dorota had rushed over to her, cell phone in hand and a meaningful look on her face. A look that forced Blair to dismiss the dying protest hanging at her lips. Blair had sighed, put down her purse, and lounged on the couch as she talked with her mother for the next quarter of an hour.

Eleanor Waldorf was the most pristine character that Blair had ever known. Perfect aging curls in place, perfect outfits fitting most flawlessly together, perfect smile to showcase to the world. Blair could always remember being so deliriously entranced by her mother's perfection. In fact, she could still recall sneaking late into her mother's room every night and fingering the countless pearls and broaches her mother sported in the years of their trend.

Eleanor had inherited her family's modeling company in her teenage years, when social and economic issues reared their heads and intruded on the Waldorf family life. She had been given the reins of the institution at such a young age, but with it came years of experience. Those years had brought the modeling industry to a desirable standpoint until being _involved _in a modeling company was a most coveted position indeed. In fact, Blair was sure that the work her mother had put into Waldorf Modeling Inc. had essentially made modeling one of the biggest industries in New York City. With modeling came skills of organization, marketing, and most of all, perfection.

And Eleanor Waldorf was the most informed person on the ideals of perfection.

But with perfection came something else: a desire for everything around Eleanor to be perfect. Everything, including Blair. Perfect nails, perfect hair, perfect shoes, and most importantly, a perfect figure.

Blair could still recall her difficult years in high school, seemingly put together on the outside, but cursed with a lack of self-confidence on the inside. After all, how could she find anything about herself to be acceptable when her own mother did not find them at all?

But with those years came time, and time had made Blair find the beauty in her own body and self-image. Even if Eleanor couldn't see it, Blair had dismissed all her shames and decided one fateful morning to see herself as others saw her: not exactly perfect, but not exactly repulsive as well. That sort of thinking had gradually boosted her self-confidence levels until she could get up in the morning and see what others praised her for: beautiful brown eyes that left all entranced by their depths.

Their conversation this morning had been anything but dismissing, but the comforts of a mother-daughter relationship were obviously not present. Eleanor had proceeded to discuss the newest fashions she had discovered in Europe, and Blair had replied with cordial and polite nods, remarking in the correct places and ending the call with a formality that left her wondering.

Petrozza's, the Italian restaurant, finally came into full view. The place was received well by most Upper East Siders, and it was Blair's favorite place to have lunch. With an air of superiority that only she could maintain, Blair entered the restaurant, asking the maitre d' where Serena's table had been set up.

The young man kindly led Blair upstairs. The floor above had large, floor-to-ceiling walls that illuminated the buildings and beauty of New York City. Soft piano music played soothingly in the upper floor. Blair thanked the man graciously when he pointed to the table beside a window overlooking a tall building. She made her way over to a familiar blonde, expecting to see a sole Dan with her.

However, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she took in the uninformed guest who had taken a third seat.

There, with an air of superiority he managed to muster, Chuck Bass sat, with the most devilish of smirks plastered cunningly on his gorgeous features.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Thanks for reading! I am just having so much fun with this story! Have a great weekend!

As always, reviews are adored :)


	10. Chapter 10: Traitorous Heat

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all readers! Just so you know, I have this story somewhat outlined and I know where I want to go with it. So, I hope you come along for the ride :) I think this is the longest I've ever gone in writing a multi-chaptered fic in my entire fanficcing history. Chuck and Blair just bring out the best in me :) Once again, thanks to all, and enjoy the chapter :)

**Chapter 10: Traitorous Heat**

__

"The desire of the man is for the woman,

but the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man."

_Madame de Stael_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_"I'm leaving you, Bart."_

_Bart Bass kept his gaze on his newspaper, continuing to read the newest article printed about the successes of Bass Industries in recent months. There was a lengthy interview he had provided about his future ambitions and dreams for his company. It was nice to read about his own successes: after all, he hadn't gotten too much attention for his feats from those around him. _

_Including the woman standing before him. Two suitcases held in either hand and a long fur coat for the chill of a New York winter. Damn her; he had bought her that luxurious fur coat in a business trip to Spain. It had been an antique worth a quarter of a million dollars, but he had found no reason to spare his wife of the season's most desired trends._

_Even if she would never appreciate them._

_His office was his own sanctuary; she knew never to enter without permission or a valid excuse._

_But he supposed the formalities of their marriage had disintegrated in recent days. _

_What his wife had just spoken would have sent any man into an angry outrage. Or, even more admirable, a desperate plea of forgiveness. However, Bart certainly wasn't an ordinary man. He did not depart his attention from the printed material before him, even while his wife spoke, hoping for some sort of reaction. _

_A reaction void of apathy._

_"I'll have annulment papers drawn up tomorrow," she spoke haughtily, turning to depart from the lavish New York apartment, prepared to leave behind the remnants of an ill marriage. _

_Bart merely chuckled. _

_The reaction to her exit was appalling._

_The woman stopped her departure and slowly turned back to face her soon-to-be ex husband, a stern look of anger and disgust etched perfectly on her features. "You can laugh all you want, Bart. I'm still leaving you."_

_They stayed that way for quite some time, her eyes trained on his seated form. Finally, in what seemed a gracious act, Bart shifted his attention away from the newspaper and took a long, hard glance at the coated woman._

_"Where do you plan on heading, dearest?" he sneered. _

_She certainly didn't deserve any sort of cordiality after the stunt she was planning on pulling._

_"My parents have been expecting me for a while now. I'll stay with them until I can find an apartment."_

_A normally calm Bart found himself shaking. His heart stilled from its calm beating._

_So her parents had become involved in the entire issue._

_That changed everything. Expanded the whole paradigm. _

_He seemed to study her, eyes traveling up and down her figure, finally landing on her stern features. "I'll take you back, you know." He spoke with an air of superiority, as if talking with a small child, not the woman whom he had claimed for nearly a year. "This doesn't have to come down to an ugly divorce."_

_A dark eyebrow raised in response. Did he **really** think she had no dignity? "I won't ever have you again, Bart Bass."_

_And at that exact moment, she had spoken with her own air of dominance. _

_As if she was equal to him in anything at all._

_"You'll be ruined. No man will ever have you once the truth comes out."_

_Her eyes narrowed. Was he **really** going to play that game?_

_She dropped the bags by her feet and walked, slowly and steadily, to Bart's seat. Bart felt triumphant, certain that she was going to apologize for her need for attention. But rather, she leaned downward, clutching the arms of his seat as she faced him with a fiery smile. "Goodbye, Bart Bass."_

_Just as she was about to back away, his hand clutched at her arm, digging his fingers deep into the young flesh until tears were brought to her eyes. "No one ever leaves a Bass."_

_His words were spoken so maliciously, far from the manner he had spoken to her in the formality of their union._

_Tugging her hand away with every strength she could muster, she backed away from him, horror settling deep within her, as she quickly gathered her two suitcases and threw on her coat roughly. _

_"Expect a call from my lawyer." _

_He heard the front door slam angrily as she left her marriage._

_Bart remained seated for a few minutes, contemplating what had just occurred. Then, with a sudden rage that burned deep inside him, he grabbed the scotch tumbler atop his desk and threw it against the wall, watching the liquid stream effortlessly down the surface towards the broken glass in defeat._

_No one ever left a Bass._

_She would be no exception._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Blair Waldorf was a woman who wasn't easily shocked. Her perfect schedule, daily rituals, and monotonous way of life gave her control over every aspect that she came across. Being so ideally organized and aware of all around her resulted in an incredible advantage in maintaining an aura of superiority over others. It was a facet of her being that she truly prided herself on.

To say Blair was shocked at the scene before her would be an _understatement_.

She had to inwardly remind herself to remain calm, to avoid a scene, and to have some dear mercy on her best friend.

Correction. _Ex _best friend.

There he sat, the masked lover of her dreams, with the most apathetic aura, lazily moving down her form with his eyes. He only offered his signature smirk, eyes dark and narrow, waiting patiently for her next move.

Just _how _would Blair react to this sudden turn of events?

She merely smiled a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Clearly, she wasn't going to make a scene.

Turning to Serena, she finally spoke in the most polite of manners. "Serena? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Serena, who currently had found the creme tablecloth incredibly interesting, looked so frightened of Blair's reaction that she gripped Dan's hand tightly below the table, speaking quietly. "I think I'm very comfortable right here, B."

Blair's smile grew even wider, her arm darting out and pulling Serena to stand. "_Now_, S," she murmured in a sing-song voice between flashed teeth, tugging a bit too forcefully at her best friend's arm. Serena, who, evidently, had no choice, allowed herself to be dragged away from the table. The duo moved to the opposite side of the restaurant to have a civil conversation.

One that would avoid bloodshed, of course.

"I know what you're going to say, B," Serena began. "But he's just been so _helpful _with me and Dan, and he invited us _all_ out for lunch!"

Blair's eyes widened. "So what happened between us at Victrola's just disappears because he can feign interest in your love life?!"

"I'm sorry, B! But he insisted you come and wouldn't have it any other way!"

Blair took a deep breath to calm herself, remaining silent for a moment. Obviously, Serena's past few days with the man did not give her much insight into his character. Blair had spent less than one hour with Chuck, and already she was determined to avoid his presence for all eternity.

Then, she spoke with far more clarity and far less anger. "He insisted I come because he wants to continue his supposed _seduction_."

Serena placed comforting hands on her shoulders, leveling her eyes with Blair's. "Just do this for me, will you, B? He's really sorry about what happened that night and is willing to _try_ to hold a decent conversation with you."

"I won't be civil-"

"Do it for me, B!"

"He's a European womanizer, S!"

"Please, B!"

"Just imagine all the girls-"

"Ladies?" Dan exclaimed from the table, interrupting the sparring of words. "The waiter here has been patiently waiting to take the order."

Serena looked to Blair in desperation. "The whole situation will look far less scandalous to the tabloids if me and Dan are seen with another couple," she pleaded, then immediately regretted her words when Blair looked to her in shock.

"A _couple?_! Serena, I swear to God-"

"Not a couple in that sense! Just another duo we're having lunch with!" Serena exclaimed. "Will it really kill you to spend some time with the guy?!"

Blair raised a perfect brow. "Do you _really _want me to answer that?"

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

It had certainly been an _interesting _lunch.

The food was divine, of course. Breaded chicken served with a creamy mushroom sauce accompanied a bed of angel hair pasta and fresh vegetables. The manager had sent a list of his most preferred wines with the waiter, and Serena had eagerly chosen a Vietti Barolo Rocche of the year 2000.

The service had been exquisite. Blair was, once again, very impressed by the quality of the Italian restaurant. In fact, the food and service were a welcome distraction from Dan and Serena's wandering hands, which had continued throughout the entire hour. The two couldn't seem to get enough of each other, randomly smooching for minutes on hand and giggling like schoolchildren as their hands disappeared from under the table.

Oh yes. Blair was going to _kill _Serena.

But that wasn't the worst of the entire ordeal. Rather, Blair had to deal with Serena and Dan's newfound relationship that made its presence known every second.

And Chuck's wandering eyes.

Of course, the man was a sly demon, and he was the most ideal lunch companion. He laughed at all of Serena's stories, shared a few of his own in France, and instructed the waiter whilst Dan and Serena had their… moments.

But, once in a while, Blair would peek at his form from hooded eyes. And he _always _seemed to be watching her.

It wasn't just a fleeting glance either.

It was with eyes obscure, lips parted, still form, as he silently took her in.

And, a traitorous heat would swim down her spine when she caught his gaze.

It wasn't that she was _attracted _to the man, for heaven's sake! He had made the conditions of that nearly impossible when he had attempted to cheaply seduce her within ten minutes of their introduction. Chuck had solidified Blair's general hatred of men when he had spoken so huskily and passionately, staring deep into her eyes at the bar.

But his eyes were a different story. When she would catch his stare, he wouldn't attempt to feign interest in another object. That was what any man would do, right? Pretend they were looking at another object in her general direction?

But, Chuck had proved he was no ordinary man. Rather, he kept his gaze locked with hers until she was dizzy from the deep color.

As if he... _wanted_ her to know he was watching her.

When she could finally break from his dizzying effect, she would hurriedly turn her head and study the wine list before her, feeling idiotic that they had already chosen the Italian wine. She had heard him chuckle one time, and humiliation built deep inside her at the thought that he was _laughing _at her antics.

Then, just as she was about to call the waiter over for her coat so she could leave such an embarrassing situation, Dan and Serena stood up, hands held tight and equally devious smiles set on their faces.

"We'll be back…" gushed Serena.

_Oh dear._

Blair's eyes widened.

_No way_ was Serena going to leave her here... by herself... with this _devil_!

She gestured to Serena, mouthing some desperate words and shaking her head slightly. Serena, who was gushing with Dan's undivided attention, took no notice and led Dan out of the room, leaving an enraged Blair and an extremely amused Chuck at the table.

Chuck, who had seen Blair's unnoticed anxious urgency, chuckled as Blair turned enraged eyes back to him.

"You don't seem too happy about their departure, Miss Waldorf," he spoke with a smile. Blair merely groaned, covering her face with her hands and remaining quiet for a few moments. Chuck took that moment to study her again. Her perfectly done curls fell defeatingly down her back, and the endless black material covering her legs made him itch to run his fingers over the material. She was a stunning visionary, from beginning to end.

When she finally looked up, she was met with Chuck's observant gaze.

"Stop doing that!"

Chuck raised an incredulous brow, his voice cool and collected. "Doing what?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, stuttering to find her voice and pinpoint exactly what he was doing. "Stop… undressing me with your eyes!"

A wide, delicious grin spread across his face. His reaction wasn't one of surprise or insult; he seemed... _entertained_.

"Excuse me, Miss Waldorf, but I am a perfect gentleman in the company of a lady."

Oh, he was just _begging_ for redemption, was he not? Blair returned an equally devious grin, running her finger over the rim of her wine glass in a circular motion. "You'd call yourself a gentlemen after that stunt at Victrola's?"

He chuckled. "That red stain will never come out." His voice turned smoother, hypnotizing her with his scrutinizing gaze. "I really did like those pants."

She found herself a bit dizzy at his gaze. Suddenly, she pulled herself out of her stupor and kept a wicked smile. "Serves you right. I hope that'll teach you to remember the dignity of us American girls," she spoke superiorly. "We're not as easy as your French whores."

He leaned forward until he was merely inches away from her face, one arm propped against the table and the other resting on his thigh.

He knew exactly where to place his hands now.

His breath warmed the porcelain skin of her cheekbones, and his lips were so close that she could trace the intricate shape. With such a close proximiy, his jaw and features seemed even more angular and sharp, giving him an unfaltering perfection.

His features were _divine_.

She had never seen such a stunning man before.

"What I seem to remember is saving you from that _creep_."

She narrowed her eyes, brows furrowing in denial.

Just because he was beautiful didn't mean she was going to forget who he _really _was.

"I was doing fine all by myself. I didn't need you to _intervene_."

His eyes trailed down her face, resting at her nude lips. She could feel his heavy and fixed gaze on her, and she shut her eyes in response.

More traitorous thoughts entered her head as the image of his lips pressed tightly against the column of her pale throat quickly flashed in her mind.

Another of his hand clutching tightly at her hip.

The third of a heated tongue dipping warmly into her ear.

"No wonder they say chivalry is dead," he murmured, fascinated by her lips. "You women kill it."

Her eyes snapped open at his words. She huffed angrily, breath a bit shaky and uncontrolled, as she grabbed her purse and belongings and faced Chuck with a cold stare. "Goodbye, Chuck," she spoke adamantly, rising up to leave. "Forever."

Before he knew it, she had retrieved her coat and tossed the wool material over her shaking form, Michael Kors flats carrying her to the bustle of the New York City streets below the view of the Italian restaurant.

Digging into his wallet and pulling out wads of bills, enough money to pay for the lunch three times over, he tossed the paper onto the table and rose quickly, the dark material of his coat covering his determined form.

His steps were resolute and unwavering as he found himself chasing after her.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed! Kind of a long flashback, was it not? I thought of cutting some stuff out, but it really fit together at the end that I couldn't seem to depart from any part of it. The next chapter will be **extremely** important in terms of dialogue, so I hope you continue reading!

And to all those who signed up for alerts, thank you! I can't even explain how it makes me feel when I open up my inbox and find a story/author/favorite alert or a review alert :) Really, its unexplainable. All I know is that I get so excited just to see there's interest in what I write.

I'd like to thank all my reviewers for the last chapter. You are my motivation :) I'll reply to you all as soon as I can :) Thanks for really making this all worth it!

Once again, thanks to all! For those lurkers, it doesn't hurt to leave a review :) Trust me, it REALLY helps in terms of having the desire to write a chapter when people leave a review. It's exhilarating :) Not only for my story, but all lurkers should leave reviews for all stories :)

Now that I've gone completely off topic, I hope you enjoy your weekend, and look forward to more soon! Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11: Tempting Crimson

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all readers! AND to all reviews! This chapter was all because of you :))) Enjoy!

**Chapter 11: Tempting Crimson**

_"Hold me til morning  
Love me right now  
Catch me, I'm falling  
Never let go  
Hold me til morning  
Love me  
And I will never be the same again."_

_Plumb, "Hold Me"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Numerous camera flashes welcomed Bart Bass to his office building. His driver, Eric, a portly man that had been with the Basses for decades, pushed aside the countless photographers standing outside the building and cordially helped Bart make his way through the large crowd, incessantly shoving away anxious journalists looking for their saving story. Bart kept his gaze on his moving feet, aiming for the door that would grant him his much-needed sanctuary._

_Did he really expect any less? _

_After all, the biggest scandal involving a business figure in recent years had just hit the thriving city of New York. A city that specialized in attention on public figures._

_"Mr. Bass!"_

_"Over here, sir!"_

_"Are you still residing in your home?"_

_"Have you talked to your wife?"_

_"Do you plan on remaining in the States?"_

_"Still plan on shooting off that big French account?"_

_"Any comment on her accusation?"_

_"Let's see a smile, Mr. Bass!"_

_Bart expertly ignored the prodding questions of the photographers, instead remaining silent as he was led to the doors. The paparazzi remained outside the building, pounding eagerly on the glass window in an effort to elicit something to write for their respective papers._

_One eager writer had dared to step into the building and was immediately ambushed by countless security personnel. _

_His cries would echo in Bart's mind for years._

_Renee, his newest secretary, a bit frazzled by flurry of public interest standing outside the office, shakingly handed Bart a prepared portfolio as he strode past her, heading for the large oaks doors of the conference room._

_He strode in authoritatively, as dictated by his years of expertise, nodding apathetically at the various board members present for the ritual meeting. Taking a seat at the head of the mahogany table, Bart flipped through the pages of the portfolio expertly, as he had done for the past ten years._

_However, instead of the mindless chatter that the members would usually commence during the preparation time, the room was filled with an eerie and deathly silence._

_One that did not sit too well with Bart._

_"Let's begin, shall we?" he exclaimed suavely, prepared to discuss the latest on Bass Industries._

_However, none of the members made a move to their portfolios. None were prepared to initiate the discussion._

_Instead, a few kept their gazes tense on the table. Others fingered the material of their portfolios in a dull manner. Still, a rather few found the window walls to be extremely interesting that particular moment._

_All of them._

_All 15 of his board members, refusing to grant him a fleeting glance._

_It had taken him years to fully earn the respect of his colleagues. And he had reaped the benefits of that sought-after respect for many years after. Everyone knew the position of wealth and prominence that Bart had undertaken: he had worked with his family's company since the age of seventeen. So, they had dutifully given him their attention and respect, because they knew he had deserved it. Hadn't all of his work proved his worth?_

_And with one night, it had all been utterly destroyed._

_The silence continued on, engulfing the room in an aura of frightening intensity. Bart did not realize his growing fury until he felt a painful burning sensation settle deep within his stomach, unrelenting and unforgiving. His eyes scanned the faces of his contemporaries, searching for any hint of rebuttal or refusal._

_Or an explanation for their unruly behavior._

_Finally, after what seemed a century, one of them spoke. Bart vaguely noted that it was Charley Dagger, the most comprehensive of them all who showed the most promise in his area of expertise. But he couldn't be sure, because the furious sensation was beginning to settle outside of his body. _

_"Bart, we've…" he began, pausing for a moment. Charley glanced at the members, seemingly hoping for their inner strength. When none of the members made a move of support, he took a deep breath, continuing. "We, the board, have come to a mutual decision."_

_The sounds were slowly beginning to drown out. Bart furrowed his brows in an attempt to fully comprehend what Charley was saying. _

_Something about a decision of the company? Since when did his pesky advisors make unified decisions about **his** company?_

_"We're a bit… concerned for the image of Bass Industries," he persisted as a few members generally nodded, their first sign of giving Charley his much-needed support. "The recent… news has made you somewhat of a public figure."_

_Christ, why was Charley speaking so quietly? Bart leaned forward, parting his mouth to reply, but really finding nothing to say. That pesky buzzing within his ears was unrelenting and meshed with Charley's calm and polished voice. He nearly cried out in anger at the buzzing._

_Charley opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, finally taking a deep breath and facing Bart with a stern gaze. "We feel it would be best if your image wasn't linked with Bass Industries. At least until the whole issue blows away."_

_The buzzing in his ears grew louder and louder. _

_"You're… firing me?"_

_"Consider it a relocation, Bart. We'll transfer you to Australia to work on the more quiet parts of Bass Industries. The ones that don't get all the attention."_

_Yet, all Bart could hear was a soul-crushing roaring sound. He brought his palms to his ears, attempting to blot out the earsplitting screams that continued relentlessly on. He heard a woman's deafening shrieks, a priceless vase falling effortlessly to the floor, and a police siren's echoing music. His heart pounded, his palms sweated, and he slumped forward against the conference table in pure defeat._

_When he awoke later on, he found himself aboard a private flight to Australia. _

_One way._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Frosted air greeted Blair as she pushed open the revolving door of the restaurant, stepping into the hectic streets near Petrozza's. The wind had picked up speed during their restaurant stay, engulfing her in a flurry of sparkling white specks as the ever-changing weather of New York made its presence known. Blair pulled her wool coat even tighter to her body, beginning her trek back to her apartment for a much needed cold shower.

_Why_ was this French bastard having such an effect on her? She had never found Europeans such a catch; in fact, EJ's recent betrayal proved their apparent womanizing ways. She had found his accent sexy, his charm debonair, and his smile unrelenting. Of course, his charm hadn't been reserved solely for Blair. His betrayal had been depressing: in fact, she recalled shoveling in pounds of rocky road ice cream the night she had found out, and throwing up the decadent dessert for the rest of the evening, Serena beside her. Serena had been so helpful during that humiliating time; calling in Blair sick to her modeling sessions for days after, explaining the situation to a furious Eleanor, and offering one of her many early boyfriends to teach EJ a much-needed lesson. She had truly been a godsend.

Hadn't that taught Blair _anything_? Hadn't she sworn of all men for the rest of her life?

Most of all, womanizing Europeans?

However, she found herself thinking back to that moment at the table. When she had opened her eyes, his brows were furrowed, lips parted and head angled somewhat to the side as he studied her features so intensely.

Never before had she felt such heat with such a simple look.

_You're just sex-deprived_, she thought to herself in an effort to explain her reaction. _He's handsome and willing, but all men are cheaters, remember_?

Resolving to end any ties with the man once and for all, Blair walked with a bit more confidence alongside the New York streets. She had an intense modeling session coming up later that week. The photographer, Rafael, a Spanish professional, had apparently sent away confident models in tears. He was one of the toughest photographers in the industry, and Eleanor had consistently encouraged Blair to lock the photographer. With Rafael would come many more opportunities.

And Eleanor was always looking for more opportunities.

There. Her modeling job had been thrown to the side for the past few days. Now was the time for her to get back on her perfected life and win some much-needed photographer hearts.

No more Chuck to dawdle upon. He was to move out of her life, and most certainly, _out_ of her revealing dreams.

Still, she found herself thinking back to his intense orbs that had locked on so deeply on her own.

And she couldn't seem to will his dreamy eyes to disappear.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"Shit!" he murmured to himself, taking the steps three at a time as he descended down the stairway to leave Petruzza's. "Shit, shit, shit!"

How could he have let her get away so _easily_?

That early morning, as he had deftly tugged a navy suit jacket before his hotel mirror, he had had a plan.

The plan had been to charm her relentlessly beside the large windows overlooking New York, the duo sipping red wine and popping steaming bread slices easily as she slipped comfortably in his presence. He would stroke the skin behind her knee, she would lean forward and play with his locks, lips dangerously close to the shell of his ear. He had planned a hand-kiss, a warm caress at the small of her back, some well-deserved compliments before he'd invite her to a lavish dinner that same night. And of course, she'd say yes, because she'd be too drunk with desire for him, and her painted red lips would part for a final kiss, and her dark curls would fall effortlessly to her back as he tangled his fingers in the tresses, and he would stun her with a passionate embrace until she was counting down the minutes until she'd see him again.

Obviously, it did not work out too well.

Instead, he'd stared at her like a foolish schoolboy, ignored Serena and Dan's pukeworthy antics, busied himself with an over exuberant waiter, and had her running away with the flats of her Michael Kors originals, brown curls tumbling behind her.

That was certainly _not_ how he had wanted to part with those locks of temptation.

But hell, he had to hand it to himself for that little display at the table. With her eyes closed, he could sense her tender conflict as he stared at her most perfect features.

Porcelain skin, high cheekbones, full red lips, and the long column of her throat.

_And_ he had gotten a whiff of her alluring natural scent.

That little moment might have saved the _entire_ operation.

After what seemed months of chasing, he swept through the revolving doors and flew into the cold air that was solely New York. He looked around frantically, searching for a patterned wool coat and enticing black tights within the flurry of the streets.

Finally, he spotted her. Walking a couple of blocks away from him, arms wrapped tight around her figure, purse hung loosely on her shoulder.

Even from afar, she was appealing.

"Blair! Blair!" he called out, stepping into a light jog along the sidewalk. She turned around in confusion, eyes widening as the object of her thoughts met her in a New York winter.

Since _when _did she get romantic movie moments?

"Blair!" he repeated, panting tiredly and resting his hands on his thighs to replenish his strength. "You... American women... really don't make this... easy," he managed to speak between heaving breaths.

She huffed angrily, folding her arms defiantly against her chest. What was he doing, following her? "What do you want, Chuck?"

He took a few moments to catch his breath. Then, he rose upward, voice level and smooth, meeting her dark eyes. "One night."

Her lips parted, her brows furrowed. "What?"

He licked his lips, words dark and pointed. She couldn't say she didn't understand him. "One night. With you."

Silence.

She seemed to assess his proposal. Finally, her eyes saddened and drooped, and she looked downward to avoid his powerful gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured until he had to strain to hear her. "But I can't."

She moved to turn around, intent on returning back to her apartment and crying herself to sleep. How humiliating; she had quivered under his gaze at the restaurant, and now her voice was uncontrolled as she declined his invitation. She needed to avoid him seeing her watery eyes.

Suddenly, a hand jutted out and tightened around her arm in pure pleading, and she lifted her eyes upward to meet Chuck's beseeching caramel orbs.

The same color of caramel she had seen in her dreams. The color of pure caramel as he lifted his head to meet her shocked gaze.

She was sure that if that unrelenting dream returned tonight, she could guess the next course of action.

And it wouldn't involve words.

"Please say yes."

Her eyes widened, lips parted, hand shook against his touch as he brought his palms upward to cup her frozen cheeks. Immediate warmth flowed through her skin as he held her face so affectionately. And he was looking at her with such concentration that she could have fainted, then and there.

"One night, and I'll leave you alone forever."

Her heart pounded incessantly, and she licked her lips blindly, watching his eyes flash downward to meet her pink tongue. Flurries of white snowflakes clung to his dark locks as more flakes met her porcelain skin.

"I won't fall in love with you, you know."

She cursed her shivering voice.

His mouth slowly formed into the devilish smirk she knew all too well, meeting her dark orbs.

"Who said anything about falling in love?"

He watched a tiny white speck of snow land gracefully on her nose and melt away under his fiery gaze. His eyes trailed downward to her full and inviting lips, enjoying their tempting crimson color under the wintry weather.

A desperate yearning to claim those lips overcame him.

Her voice was shaky and lacking control. "One night it is."

He nodded slowly, still cupping her face. "Seven-o-clock?"

She smiled, nodding in return. Then, his hands dropped from the warm contact and flew into the pockets of his coat. He offered a tender smile and turned around, beginning his trek in the opposite direction, leaving a stunned and slightly staggering Blair Waldorf in the bustle of New York City.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Long flashback!

FINALLY! This is where it gets REALLY exciting for me to write! All the buildup, all the character development, trust me when I say that we are left with some really good scenes coming up :) At least I hope you'll like them!

And to all those who signed up for alerts, thank you! Usually I thought that people would know the story by now, but it's always nice to open up my e-mail and find an alert. Actually, it's more than nice!

I'd like to thank all my reviewers for the last chapter. You are my motivation! Lots more reviews last chapter, thanks so much!!!

Reviews are adored! As always, thanks for reading :)


	12. Chapter 12: Pure Touch

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Once again, thanks so much to all readers, reviewers, alerters, etc. etc. I was going to wait to post this for editing purposes, but it's already been a week. I don't like to keep my readers waiting just because it kills me to wait for a new chapter of other stories :) So off we go! Sorry for an grammatical/spelling errors; they're all mine as I haven't done much revision on this chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter 12: Pure Touch**

_"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen,_

_nor touched,_

_but are felt in the heart."_

_Helen Keller_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

An exasperated Blair Waldorf trudged from her walk-in closet, dragging pounds of material with her. Silks, chiffons, and numerous fabrics of varying colors fell behind Blair, the pricey clothing sweeping the carpet in surrender below her flats as she made her way over to her bed.

With a groan, she tossed the handful of colors atop her bed, leaving an excessive mound of green, red, and gold fabrics against her navy blue sheets.

None of her outfits seemed to please her! Either she felt they were too fancy, too casual, or too _ugly _to be worn that night. She had chosen a navy blue cocktail dress that fell right above the knees, but the sides had made her look a big chunky, and the style generally did not suit her.

She was a model, for heaven's sake! She should have the most fashionable of the trends hanging effortlessly in her closet!

The issue wasn't the lack of clothing resting in her closet. Nor was it the lack of trends that the market was currently offering. No; Blair Waldorf had a personal closet that was enviable by any well-known celebrity with a sense of style. Years of working in the modeling industry had greatly improved her fashion sense, and the pounds of clothing she was given regularly after her photo shoots were always the latest crazes in high fashion.

But her date with Chuck demanded something… different. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what she wanted in her outfit; after having tried on countless dresses and skirts, she just felt that Chuck wouldn't be impressed by her choice.

She dutifully noted that it wasn't his good _individual_ impression she was looking for. After all, the man thought that any American woman was an easy target into his sheets… she clearly wanted to dismantle any of those misconceptions.

So what better way to tempt him than to leave him speechless at a first sighting?

With a sigh, Blair ran her fingers over the yellow silken dress that had peeked its way out of the mountain of bright fabrics. It had been worn at one of Serena's parties a couple of years ago, and she could still remember receiving various compliments from the partygoers. She hadn't been in the sun for a while, so the yellow would probably wash her out…

Paleness was definitely _not _one of her strongpoints.

Suddenly, an incessant knocking drew Blair out of her thoughts. Relieved, Blair rushed over to the doorway of her bedroom and flew open the door to reveal a slightly frazzled Serena.

Phone in hand, purse in the other, and a golden halo of locks wildly framing her shocked features.

"B, what's the emergency? I came as soon as I could!"

Blair rolled her eyes inwardly in slight amusement. Leave it to Serena to take a simple text message as a cause for deathly emergency. However, her personal fashion guru had finally arrived, and not a moment too soon.

She tugged Serena into her room, pointing at the large mound atop her sheets. "_That _is the emergency."

Serena furrowed her brows, turning back to Blair in confusion and a hint of annoyance. "You brought me all the way from Brooklyn to help you clean out your _closet?!_"

Blair groaned loudly, flailing her arms in an unladylike fashion. "I can't find a single outfit to wear!"

Serena's brows rose in disbelief. Oh, this was certainly a day she would never forget.

She brought a rapid palm to Blair's forehead, certain that this had suddenly turned into a more serious emergency. "Are you _feeling _ok, B? I did somewhat leave you a bit unarmed at lunch today."

Ignoring an aimed jab of when Serena had left her with… the devil himself, Blair continued. "I know; never happened before. But nothing in my closet is working…so maybe something will impress you?"

When Serena pulled away from Blair, a wide Cheshire grin was stamped proudly on her features, showcasing her obvious excitement. She couldn't stay mad at her best friend for _too_ long. "Need help picking an outfit, dearest?"

Blair couldn't stifle a smile. Instead, she pointed a giddy Serena in the direction of her closet. "Just watch out for the aftermath of the tornado."

Serena squealed happily, making her way over to Blair's closet. Those rare occasions when Blair would get sick (rare, because Blair was the epitome of a healthy lifestyle) and needed Serena's help to coordinate an outfit for her, Serena would happily oblige. This incident was no exception; although the reason for Blair's difficulties confused Serena, she was extremely prepared to aid an ailing friend.

As Serena ruffled through the countless tops and bottoms, relatively unscathed by the tornado, on the numerous racks, Blair began to collect the items that had effortlessly fallen to the floor during her earlier battle.

"So what's the occasion, Blair?" Serena called out from the closet as she shuffled through the rows of evening dresses hanging right above the summer tops. Blair's closet was truly desirable. "For what am I dressing you for?"

A small, barely-there reply echoed off the walls.

"I have a date tonight."

Blair heard countless items being dropped, followed by a wave of golden hair and inquisitive blue eyes peeking out from the door. "You have a _date?!_"

Blair scoffed, rolling her eyes at Serena's incredulity. "Yes, Serena. A date," she exclaimed, folding an emerald top expertly. "It's been known to happen."

"Well, who's it _with?!_"

Blair remained quiet for a moment, turning her own revealing eyes to Serena's curious ones. Serena was going to have some _fun_, she was sure of it. "Your friend, Chuck."

Serena's cerulean eyes widened to enormous lengths as she fully took in the situation.

A formerly disgusted Blair had agreed for an evening with… Chuck?

She squealed, running over to Blair and enveloping her in a tight hug that nearly left her breathless. "I'm so _happy _for you, B!"

Blair smiled happily despite her diminishing air supply, returning the hug in full gesture. It was nice to feel true and unabashed happiness. In truth, she couldn't remember feeling so relaxed and carefree before. "Don't get too excited, S. First I have to find something to wear!"

Serena pulled away, a wide smile shining with ease as Blair visibly saw the wheels turning in Serena's head. "I just thought of the _perfect_ outfit for you to wear!"

Scurrying over to the closet in anticipation, Serena searched through the items in a clear destination. When she finally found the black material that had been pushed into the deep recesses of Blair's closet, she expertly pulled the dress off the rack and emerged from the closet, dress in tow. "_This _will leave him breathless!"

When Blair fully noted the dress Serena held, she scoffed, turning her attention back to the numerous fabrics before her. "Something _serious, _Serena."

Serena looked hurt, looking back at the simple black dress. "It's beautiful, Blair! Shows off your figure, which," she exclaimed, wiggling her brows suggestively towards her brunette friend, "is your primary goal the first date."

Blair scoffed, keeping her amused eyes on the pantsuit she was currently folding, unwilling to succumb to Serena's choice. "I wore that for an amateur modeling session when I was _twenty_, Serena," she explained.

"A classic is always a classic, Blair," Serena spoke in confusion, clearly in love with the dark dress. "Besides, you can totally pull this off!"

A ringing sound interrupted the duo. Serena answered her cell phone, murmuring words of apologies into the speaker. She promptly hung up the device, turning to Blair apologetically. "That was my mother. She needs me at the office to work." With tender care and concern, Serena hung the rejected dress on Blair's closet door.

"You've heard my opinion, B. Wear the dress," she advised with amusement, grabbing her discarded purse and enveloping Blair in a rapid hug. "Have some fun tonight: you definitely deserve it."

Blair smiled, the smile not quite reaching her eyes, and returned the hug warmly. After Serena left, she sighed heavily, glancing at the flurry of colors still resting atop her bed.

That green overcoat _was _more of a summery look…

Her eyes drifted from the mountain to the hung dress. The material stared menacingly back at her, but Blair found herself walking towards the door in silent surrender.

Running her fingers over the soft stretch fabric, she imagined sauntering over to the doorway and greeting Chuck with a sight to remember, leaving him breathless and desperate for more. His eyes would surely widen, his mouth would be left hanging, and his normally inquisitive gaze would be too stunned into silence to taunt her any longer.

Which is _why_ she would wear the dress. To leave Chuck so stunned he wouldn't be able to function for the rest of the evening. He'd get his one night with her, and she'd be treated to a pricey dinner date, along with proving to Chuck that she wouldn't be so tender to his seduction.

Oh yes. She was certain it would be a memorable evening.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Flicking the short blunt into the ground below him, Chuck dug the sole of his leather shoes into the lit cigarette, watching the stick weaken heavily. Having finished his third cigarette of the hour, it was nearing the time to finally greet Blair Waldorf.

His eyes flickered to his phone, recalling the earlier conversation he had had with his father. It had been the first time Bart had called him since he had departed Paris a few weeks earlier, so Chuck had been surprised to see his father's name in the receiving call.

In typical Bart Bass fashion, the call had been short and direct.

_"Her mother's coming back at the end of the month. Get it done by then."_

Then, the call had suavely ended.

So his father needed the assignment done in half the time that had been originally given. He could do it; the news had altered his plans a bit, but nothing too much that he couldn't properly ensnare the Waldorf heiress. Sure, it had come as a bit of a surprise, but years of working in one of the more competitve businesses in the world had molded him to being excellent in working under pressure. It was one of his more stronger points.

Leaning apathetically against the shining black of his limousine, he allowed his mind to wander to the target of his assignment. Blair Waldorf was a feisty one indeed. Her defensive stance at Victrola's had proven many insinuations he had had about her during his observation.

First, she had been hurt by countless men in the past. A simple shuffling through some older newspapers in the local library confirmed the many bachelors she had been with in recent years.

And most of them had ended in scandal that New York reporters had been eager to publish.

Many of them had revealed heated affairs kept hidden behind closed doors; others showcased illicit pasts that had been uncovered at the worst of times. With more research, he discovered that she had been engaged once, five years earlier, to a handsome businessman, heir to a thriving corn industry in the United States. However, when it was later revealed that he had had some illegal business deals made in the past, the engagement had quickly ended.

Leaving Blair Waldorf as miserable as ever, he could imagine.

Another thing she had revealed about herself was her spirited character. This wasn't a model that simply wore the clothing handed to her by blinded photographers; she was eager to question and reject societal norms of the industry.

Which left the assignment a bit more difficult, in terms of getting her to completely trust him.

And with the amateur tactics he was using, there was simply no more room for error. Every move, every touch, every _gaze _had to be calculated into his general plan.

But still, even with all of the scandal that had blemished her romantic history, she had emerged relatively unscathed. Still successful in a highly competitive industry, the earlier markings of hurtful men had not completely destroyed her character. She had many friends, including an ever-loyal Serena and the kind Nate Archibald, who had traveled to South America for some business with his father.

This brought a taunting smirk to his face. His father had assigned him to ensnare the most beautiful of American women in one month's time.

And he had no doubt of her unlimited beauty. Unlike the numerous women he had been with, this particular splendor did not easily melt with a flirtatious smirk. Or a variety of compliments. Instead, when he had tried to seduce her with his common techniques, the result had been a slightly bruised ego.

And stained khaki pants he could never wear again.

But she was stunning, of course. Coffee-colored curls flowing freely down her back, high cheekbones to complement her flawless skin, and red painted lips that desperately yearned to be adored.

Endless, endless leg eternally covered by form-fitting tights.

Porcelain skin that nearly begged for a mild touch from his too-eager fingers.

Heaving breasts, ready to be spilt into his awaiting palms...

Immediately, he pulled out of those dangerous thoughts. He wouldn't let himself get distracted by her beauty; he had a job to finish, and his father surely wouldn't be happy if Chuck didn't make Blair his by the end of the allotted time.

Glancing lazily at his watch, he noted the time, confident that he had given the lady enough time for a night to remember. With direct, determined strides, he strode into the apartment building and caught the next elevator. An elderly couple greeted the well-dressed man with suspicion; Chuck felt vaguely uncomfortable with the curious glances the elderly couple beside him were placing upon him. When the doors to Blair's floor slowly opened, he darted out of the suffocating cubicle and stopped at Blair's door.

1903.

Running his hands over his suit and fixing the navy scarf around his neck, tugged expertly into his red silken shirt, he placed a quivering hand upon her doorbell and gently pressed the contraption to note his arrival.

A few seconds passed.

Then, the door swung open, revealing a portly maid of foreign appearance.

"Please come in," she politely spoke, inviting Chuck into the foyer. "Miss Blair ask you to wait here," she explained in broken English before curtsying in habit and leaving Chuck standing in the room.

Taking a deep breath, Chuck snaked his hands into his pockets, glancing at the table beside him. A single plant rested atop the wood, with a silver frame standing right beside it. Curiosity taking the best of him, he picked up the frame, eyeing the two figures posing in front of a stunning fountain.

His mind immediately recognized the location as a small Italian market located off the streets of Venice. He had been to that exact fountain countless times; the vendors boasted the greatest desserts in the Italian city, to which Chuck wholeheartedly agreed. The figure beside a smiling Blair was unknown to Chuck, but he could guess the relation based on the two similar sets of eyes staring right back at him. The figures held relatively similar features; wide, inquisitive brown eyes, a pointed chin, and bright smiles shining through the photograph.

Eleanor Waldorf.

His recent research was not heavily concentrated on the current head of one of the largest modeling industries in the country. All he knew was that Blair's mother had garnered a respectable reputation in the fashion world and had been a huge success for a number of decades.

He hadn't found the information too impressive; back in France, he was acquainted with many contemporaries of his father who had achieved much financial and social respect, regardless of the poorer conditions of their childhood. What constituted as social and financial upbringing in the States paled in comparison to the anecdotes of his father's colleagues. _Those _men had truly lifted themselves out of the dreary conditions of their futures and made names of themselves.

The photograph looked to have been taken many years ago, which would easily explain the comforting relationship the duo portrayed in the scene. His PI's had provided him with information that negated a tender connection between Eleanor and Blair. Eleanor's consistent traveling to Europe and Blair's job here in the States set the two women miles apart, in location and in preference.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

Was it possile that he and Blair share a similar connection in terms of their relationships with their estranged parents? Was she just as lost to her mother as he was lost to his father?

Did she eternally dream for her mother's approval, just as he yearned for his father's acceptance?

Would she be willing to do just as he was doing now? Hurt another for a parent's approval?

_You're thinking too much, _he thought to himself. _Just get the job done._

Placing the frame back atop the table in a proper position, he glanced up at the mirror hanging against the wall. Making sure that his appearance was as seductive as could be, he ran his fingers through his styled dark locks.

Heeled shoes gently clicked against the tiled floors of the apartment building. He turned at the sound, mouth immediately drying as he took in the sight before him.

A simple, boat-neck dress covered her slim form. The sleeves were long, and the dress boasted a color of the darkest black imaginable, coming up mid-thigh. Hair pulled up into a loose chignon, a few wisps of chocolate curls adorned her smiling face. Her eyes were shining, the coffee color of the orbs making a shiver run straight from his shoulders to his fingertips. Her legs ran endlessly until they rested on a pair of elegant high black heels. A line of pearl beads ran around her neck, with crimson lips completing the stunning look.

He felt a smile begin at his lips as she sauntered over to his form near the foyer. When she stopped before him, he nodded slightly, as if in approval.

"Absolutely divine, _Miss Waldorf_."

His words dripped so smoothly, like pouring honey into a clear bowl.

A pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she returned his compliment with a smile. "As do you."

From the inside of his black jacket pocket, he swiftly pulled out a single, short-stemmed red rose. He held it to her, a smirk playing on his lips as she eyed the perfect flower with wonder. "Prepare yourself for a magical night," he murmured as she daintily took his sweet gift.

Bringing the dark rose to her nose, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet fragrance of a time-beloved tradition.

After all, what woman wasn't in love with this moment?

Her eyes trailed from his stylish outfit, finally to his inquisitive eyes. "Thank you," she spoke, feeling extremely elated at the start of the evening. She had never been met with such a powerful gaze as Chuck's response when she had floated into the room. Neither had she been greeted with the sweetest of roses, a charming way to begin a date.

Chuck's tactics were... _flattering_. And, most surprisingly, she found that she was eager to see what else he had in store for their planned evening.

Before the two could depart, a frazzled Dorota charged into the room, holding a fur wrap in her arms. "Miss Blair! Your coat."

As she was about to reach for the warming material, Chuck spoke. "Allow me."

Dorota, with her widened eyes, handed Chuck the material with shaking hands and scurried away from the scene. Blair turned to allow Chuck easier access to wrap the fur around her slightly quivering form.

She heard Chuck's quiet gasp from behind her. A delicious smile made its way to her face as she patiently waited for Chuck's response as he gazed at her back.

Her very _naked _back.

Chuck's fingers tightened around the fur wrap in silent agony. The black dress in the front seemed a bit too ordinary for her liking; the exposed part of the back had been the real jaw-breaker for the evening. And what an exposed back it was, _indeed_. No amount of material covered the expanse of her shoulders and moving downward. The dress began to curve right at the small of her back, baring to all the smoothest of porcelain skin, expanding from the gentle curve of her neck to a few millimeters right above her bottom. A single freckle was planted towards the left, and he felt himself drawn to such... _nakedness_.

And no, that was not all. The little temptress had paired the dress with a long pearl necklace. The beads of the string gently outlined the curve of the dress, so that the pearls rested elegantly against her skin. The lowest of the pearls hung right at the small of her back, inviting all to tangle their fingers in the pearls of her own seduction.

He gulped soundly, moving forward until he lay a few centimeters from such nudity. His shaking palms unfisted the fur wrap from his tight grip, deliciously satisfied that the wrap sheltered her nudity from all prying eyes. He couldn't imagine any other man feasting his eyes on her exposed skin.

However, before they would begin the night, he would let her know of his appreciation.

His fingers curled around her upper arms, not too tightly, but enough to remind her of his leering presence. Her breasts heaved against his tender touch, and she shut her eyes in ecstasy, tilting her head backward to expose her neck to his fiery gaze.

She was in a daze, eternally captivated by his pure touch and looming eyes.

"Absolutely divine, _Blair_," he spoke hotly, lips tracing along the shell of her ear, bathing the sensitive organ in unadulterated heat. She noted that he had called her by her first name; seemingly crossing a line of formality that he had planned to cross later that evening.

Under his own terms and conditions, of course.

But her sly outfit had changed his dominance over the evening. And Chuck couldn't lose his control because that was what he had left to work with, to ensure his complete and utter seduction of the Waldorf heiress. He wasn't about to surrender the evening to her eye-popping dress because this evening had to work out _exactly _as he had planned.

Or the entire operation would crash and burn.

So, with refusing hands that yearned to roam, and a tongue that hoped for a _fleeting_ taste of porcelain skin, he removed himself of her presence, backing away a few feet for his own sanity and leaving a breathless Blair on shaky legs.

He held out a simple hand, and she trembled as she accepted the gesture and the two departed from the apartment for the evening.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

LONG chapter! I had a difficult time deciding where it had to end, but I hope it was worth the wait!

Thanks for reading! As always, REVIEWS are adored! It always helps to get a chapter out quicker; believe me!

And to those who reviewed, you are divine :))))

Have a great week!


	13. Chapter 13: Unspoiled Crème

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all REVIEWERS! And ALERTERS! Once again, you're what keep me going, especially the ones who have stayed with the story. You know who you are :) Very sorry for the delay, but I hope this was worth it :) Enjoy!

**Chapter 13: Unspoiled Crème**

_"My heart beat so hard when I was near him, _

_I feared he could hear my secret longing for him."_

_Destiny Vaestus_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The limo ride was quiet and undisturbed. Stan, the driver, a portly man loyal to the younger Bass since the boy's childhood, played no music, but instead coasted through the city with supreme accuracy. Chuck's instructions had been precise and ill of stray: a five-star restaurant in the heart of New York City was the night's destination. Traffic was little, and the barely visible specks of snow fell calmly atop the thriving city. It was an ideally calm and tranquil scene, one that was intensely appreciated by a recently overworked Stan.

However, Stan could see that his superior felt anything but peaceful and serene.

Stan had been working for Chuck Bass ever since the boy could order the elder driver around, and had been assigned the heir's driver for most of Chuck's life, ever since Bart Bass had felt that his fatherly duties yielded at taking his son to school.

Weeks earlier, Bart had called a quivering Stan to his office and told the driver of Chuck's plans to visit the states for a few weeks. Stan was assigned as Chuck's freelance driver for the trip, but the younger Bass hadn't called upon his services until late that afternoon. Stan had been lounging in a New York hotel, sipping martinis and enjoying the pleasures of American life, when Chuck had called the man and interrupted his undeclared mini vacation. Chuck had merely spoken the time and destination, with clear instructions to keep his mouth shut during the drives, as he and his lady friend were to remain _undisturbed_. Stan had consented and sighed heavily when the call had ended, extremely dissapointed that his planned activities for the day had to come to an end. But, remembering Bart's pointed words of caution, Stan had felt that his objections would mean nothing to one of the more powerful families in the world.

Stan glanced at his superior's stance through his rear-view mirror as the limo stopped at a red light. Even he himself was knowledgeable on Chuck's wide seductive ways. In fact, the larger man tended to feel hints of jealousy at how easily Chuck could lure women into his sheets. During their limo drives, Chuck was very open with his sensual gestures with his countless dates, and the usually proper women always fell supple to his ministrations.

However, Chuck's current state slightly puzzled Stan, who had thought he had known the boy so well. Instead of flaunting the brunette's obvious beauty, as was a familiar tactic of Chuck in the beginning stages of the evening, Chuck hadn't uttered a word throughout the ride. In fact, Stan could venture to say that Chuck had been... well, _fidgeting _in his seat. Although some would have believed that the boy was attempting a new method of seduction, Stan thought a bit differently.

Maybe Chuck _was _trying a new way to taunt the young woman.

But... could it be that the man was simply... _speechless_?

That the normally womanizing character had been... _overwhelmed_ by a Chuck Bass that was too enthralled by the American persona?

Was Chuck Bass... mesmerized by his quivering date?

Stan chuckled deeply under his breath, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Maybe _this _was the woman that would ensnare Chuck's heart; she certainly was a stunning creature, and based on Chuck's reaction, he could assume that it wasn't a new tactic of his. Stan would always wish Chuck the best in his love life; experience showed that even the most haughty of men revealed a tender side, and Chuck's numerous escapades with women could maybe end with this brunette's introduction.

Chuck shot a glance at Stan when the elder chuckled. He rolled his eyes inwardly, convinced that a few nights in New York had corrupted the elder's upstanding character.

Chuck softly sighed, his fingers pressing against the bridge of his nose in slight frustration.

What _was _it about the air of New York?

A cool exterior he most certainly could maintain. Chuck was a master at the masking of true intentions; working at one of the most competitive industries in the world gave him a clear advantage in portraying a soothing persona. Being supple to nervousness was most certainly not an aspect of his character; Chuck thrived on revealing tranquility in everything he did.

And that included bedding the most _beautiful_ women of his time.

Including a tempting brown-eyed brunette.

But that night, fingers tapping restlessly against his suit-clad thigh, Chuck felt anything but relaxed. The two sat on opposite sides of the vehicle, bodies seemingly crushing against the doors, both keeping their eyes trained on the scenery outside their respective windows. Chuck continued to shift in uneasiness, running his hands over the lapels of his suit jacket, fingers anxiously adjusting his thin navy blue scarf, finally returning his preocuppied hands to run through his perfectly styled locks and repeating the cycle all over again. He was obviously trying to pinpoint his nerves.

Then, when he could sense her utter preoccupation, his eyes would shift to her form.

The city's lights glowed on her form, giving her an air of utter and godly radiance. Her porcelain skin beamed under the lights, the gentle curve of her nose and the slight pout of her lips illuminated under the night sky. Every once in a while, when the stunning sights made their appearance, her tongue would dart out to meet her lips, and he found himself entranced by the simple erotic act.

The long column of her throat gleamed as she stretched to view more of her home city, revealing more glimpses of tantalizing skin. One leg was crossed over the other, allowing the stretchy black material to ride up her thighs. His eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the perfected expanse of skin, leaving him breathless and entranced as he imagined his skilled fingers tugging the dark material upward.

Exposing more to his greedy gaze.

Pulling himself away from such traitorous thoughts, he cleared his throat as the limousine made its subtle stop in front of the Italian restaurant. D'Gello's was a popular fine-dining experience; it took months for a one night reservation for a simple commoner. Even for American celebrities (including the Waldorf family), a weeklong advanced registration was required, since the place was a stronghold for all suitable celebrities and high-end American businessmen. Blair's eyes widened as the vehicle stopped at the large building.

It would have been impossible for Chuck to have reserved a table for the two; they had agreed to the date that same day.

Yet, before she could voice her incredulity, her door swung open, and a smirking Chuck held a hand out to his accompany for the evening. She tugged the fur wrap around her shoulders and smiled slightly, extending her hand to meet Chuck's.

Incredible warmth overcame her as he eased her out.

Shaking slightly at the tender touch, she nearly gasped when his hand found its way to the naked skin at the small of her back, diving under the warming material of her coat to rest against the surface of her skin, splaying his palm in freedom.

Silently, she willed her beating heart to still its frantic motion.

His fingers deftly tangled in the pearls at her back as he led the two to the doorway, offering a courteous nod to the kind doorman as they made their way into the restaurant.

She had only been to D'Gello's a handful of times in her life; the intense waiting period generally annoyed her, and there were enough hotspots in New York to quench her satisfaction. Those times when Blair did dine at the restaurant, it was usually at the expense of a friend's connections or her mother's desires to feast in style, which did not occur much too often with their busy schedules.

The restaurant was designed in a typical opera house attraction; golden rimmed expansive ceilings, intricate carvings, touches of Italian culture in every corner. The golden tables held a pristine white silk lining, and the finest of silver utensils and plates decorated the fabled scene. Lovely portraits of Italian vineyards and the water-soaked bridges of Venice covered the golden walls, along with a few frames of casual dining cafes in the heart of the European city.

Blair's eyes wandered across the wide room, arm tucked into Chuck's as she noted the packed restaurant. There was no empty table in sight; the pristine tables were all held by fashionable civilians sipping their champagne in apathy, along with a few styled businessmen who were currently watching her with eager eyes.

After all, such elegance did not come by much too often in their lives.

One man, a tall blonde with a flashy smile and pleasing features, grinned at Blair and lifted his glass up in an invitation to join him for the evening.

Blair held on even tighter to Chuck, one hand resting against his chest and the other curved at his waist. He sensed her advance and hugged her against him, wrapping his arm even more expertly against her trembling waist, to indicate to all, even greedy businessmen, that she was _his _for the evening.

Yes, gentlemen, the stunning brunette to his left belonged to _him. _

Blair's eyes drifted shut at the comforting gesture, and she unconsciously rested her head against his shoulder, silently fascinated by his inviting warmth and his lovely protection.

When the waiter arrived to accommodate the new arrivals, Chuck murmured in whispered tones, to which Blair smirked against his shoulder.

Just _what _was he planning?

The waiter spoke softly, looking back to a superior-looking golden table near the entrance and nodding slightly.

"Your table is ready," the waiter spoke with a smile and authority, extending a hand to the staircase near the back of the room.

Blair's brows burrowed in a slight confusion as the waiter remained at his post, not accompanying their ascent up the staircase. The rails of the staircase were lined with ethnic vines, wrapping elegantly around the surface in a graceful beauty, reminded all of the tempting wonders of unseen nature.

When they reached the top, large oak doors greeted their presence. The doors swung open in a polished fashion, giving a sense of a ballroom setting.

And Blair gasped at the sight.

An intricate ballroom with high-vaulted ceilings was revealed behind the oak doors. Floor to ceiling length tinted windows outlined one wall, and a domed center caved in the ceiling. Bright lights lined the domed center, creating a wonderful blend of a bright gold room. Splashes of bright colors radiated along the ceiling with numerous jewels pasted against the surface, and detailed flower carvings spread stylishly along the corners of the walls. The tiles of the floor were an unspoiled crème color, and a solitary table was placed in the center of the expansive room, a lengthy single candle glowing atop the table.

When she could finally voice some syllables together, Blair stuttered. "Chuck…how did-when…?"

She heard him scoff beside her as they stepped along the tiled floors to the centered table. "Connections are helpful, Blair," he replied, fingers slightly stroking the small of her back. "I did say to prepare yourself."

Her eyes continued to roam over the room's mesmerizing features. She felt transported into an age of stylish ball gowns, mannered gentlemen, exquisite paintings and sculptures, and heated lovers illicitly meeting for a fiery encounter. The complex flower carvings sprinkling the walls added to the fascinating aura being undertaken by the large room. Countless stars were dotted randomly along the night sky through the large windows, and she could see high buildings make their victorious stretch to the heavens, hinting at a touch of New York among the time travel to a lovely era.

Her jacket was removed by Chuck's warm palms, which lingered a bit longer than she would have expected on her shoulders. He pulled away from her rapidly after the prolonged touch and gave a slight smirk as she turned back towards him, red lips parted and full.

She nodded slowly, resting against the presented chair with slightly trembling legs. He sat opposite of her, the single candle in the center burning with an unrelenting flame. However, the candle obstructed his view of her. He leaned forward, releasing a waft of air from his parted lips and immediately extinguishing the defenseless flame.

When the smoke curled away into the domed ceiling, his eyes were heavy and dark on her form.

Inquisitive light brown eyes that fleetingly reminded her of her illicit dream days earlier.

The one with his hazel eyes staring deep into her core as he met her gaze above her bare abdomen.

Where he had previously trailed his lips along the soft expanse of yearning skin...

"Drinks?"

Slightly startled by the similar eyes, Blair cleared her throat and smiled politely as Chuck placed a special order of the most sought after wine in the states. The obedient waiter nodded slowly and left the table in perfected training, returning swiftly with a bottle of vintage château pétrus and two chilled glasses. The glasses were filled with the extravagant liquid, and the waiter hurried away, mindful of the clear instructions he had been given that earlier afternoon.

The chilling voice of Andrea Bocelli trickled its way into the room as it echoed softly in the background of the dining couple.

"Are you always this attentive with your dates?" Blair questioned with a raised coffee brow and a ghost of a smirk planted on her features. "Or this… _pricey_?"

A chuckle escaped his lips as he contemplated her words, looking down at the drink in his hand. Finally, he met her eyes. "I only get one chance to impress you, Blair," he replied with a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. "You haven't really left me with room for error."

She leaned back against her chair, dangling the wine glass from her hand that threw itself against the head of the seat. Crossing her legs, she took a generous sip of the decadent liquid and smiled. "You think this is the way to impress me?" Her eyes roamed over the scenery at her next words. "Rent out a room to ourselves in the most expensive of restaurants in the city and serve me champagne," she explained, eyes shifting to the drink in her hand, "that's probably just as expensive?"

A more serious expression overtook him as he regarded her darkly. "Is it working?"

She laughed with no restraint, tipping her head back at his words. "I guess we'll see by the end of the night, won't we?"

He was entranced as he watched the muscles of her throat work to digest the chilling liquid, feeling a familiar and deep stirring in his groin.

Oh yes.

He was _sure_ they would know by then.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"Mademoiselle? Are you finished?" the waiter questioned with a pure mannered expression, indicating Blair's generally empty dish. She nodded slowly, thanking the kind waiter as he expertly removed the plate from before her. Chuck indicated to the waiter to remove his own dish.

The cook had certainly outdone himself for their private dinner. The braised lamb had been utterly cooked to perfection, and Chuck was certain that neither he nor Blair had ever tasted such exquisite lamb before. The potato leek soup had been equally as impressive, and the everlasting supply of steaming bread had added to the lovely meal.

The company during their dinner had been equally delightful. The two had discussed a wide array of topics, ranging from the varying living conditions between Europe and the United States to the delightful taste of the dinner. He had expected the young woman to enjoy discussing the newest fashions and the more evolving parts of the modeling industry. In fact, earlier that morning, he had been preparing with heavy research on the things he had thought she would enjoy to discuss. However, when the topic on the state's recent election made its way into their conversation, Blair had begun to animatedly discuss her well-made opinions on the current economic crisis. Sure, they would disagree, considering he was a European businessman and she was living in the situation.

But even more admirable was her intent listening when he had revealed his own opinions based on recent business dealings in Europe. Never before had he felt another human being give him their full and undivided attention. Usually with his dates, Chuck would have to feign interest in their mundane lives as they chatted about the most useless of things. And with his business associates, Chuck had always felt that his relation with the company's head may have deterred others from seeing his true potential. And with Bart, the man barely had any time to even _associate_ with his accomplished son.

But Blair was an entirely different story. Not only did she make valuable conclusions, but she seemed generally _interested_ in what he had to say.

And even more curious was that he was just as interested in what _she _had to say. Before he had gotten on the Parisian jet to the states, Chuck had been certain that his target's modeling position would result in pretending to be animated when he was really bored.

But once again, Blair had surprised him, and he found that he was anxious to learn more about this lovely beauty.

Of course, when the topic of his personal life would come up in the conversation, Chuck would answer for a couple of minutes the well-planned story he had fabricated, and then swiftly switch the subject, deftly avoiding her suspicion. It would be very unwise for him to open up too much; he had to be certain what he could and could not say in her presence.

He had discovered much about her life as well. She had been a prim and proper child growing up, attending the most prestigious of schools and receiving praiseworthy grades that would have made his own accomplishments in childhood mere child's play, compared to her achievements. Her mother had initially pushed her into the modeling industry, but with time, she found that she instinctively loved her profession. She began to discuss with him the power she felt she had under the camera; able to portray whatever image she wanted for the rest of the world to see. Unlike what many people thought, models were given some sort of independence during their photo shoots and did not usually maintain the snobbish attitudes that had plagued obvious clichés in the states.

And he found that he was fascinated by her animation. She would light up when she talked about modeling; her eyes would brighten up and she would discuss her job with such eloquence and delight that he envied any man who had spent any time with such beauty.

And, he vaguely noted a prim desire to crush any man who had hurt her unstained perfection.

When their plates had been cleared away and the table was bare, she spoke. "Any more surprises headed my way?"

Chuck smirked, dragging a cigarette and placing the stick into the corner of his mouth, lighting it expertly. "Just a few."

Her eyes narrowed at his actions as he took a long swig of the dangling cigarette and released the smoke.

"I feel like you know everything about me," she murmured, a blush creeping against her cheeks. "I don't even know your last name."

Chuck felt his palms sweat at her accusation. He glanced away, showcasing apathy, and took another long drag of his cigarette, mind working quickly for a response. _Best to go with a mysterious answer_, he thought. When he spoke, his eyes were glued to the long windows. "I think it's best if we don't bother with last names."

Her brows slightly furrowed, and her teeth tugged at her bottom lip in wonder. "You're very vague, you know."

He grinned, turning back to face her amused stare. "I've been told."

Suddenly, he rose up, pressing the cigarette into the ashtray before him. He stood before her and offered an outstretched hand. "I want to show you something."

She regarded the slight smirk plated on his lips, his dark eyes warm and certainly alluring. She took his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her up as he brought his lips dangerously close to her ear.

"Close your eyes," he spoke huskily, the warmth of his breath tickling the sensitive organ. A heated sensation swam up from her toes to her hair. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she nodded with a tremble, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly led her forward.

He directed her carefully, chest plush against her naked back. Her own hands had managed to tangle with his as she allowed herself to be led by his inviting warmth.

Before she was about to remark on the silliness of his suggestion, a frigid current swept across her body. She felt Chuck's hands place his dinner jacket over her shivering frame as she realized that they had entered a wintry New York.

They continued to move forward, her sharp heels clicking against what she believed was a marble floor. Chuck was determined to keep her under the covers; she couldn't decipher anything about their current surroundings. All she knew was that he had led her outside, the iced air leaving her bare legs chilled and frosted as she felt snowflakes rest gently against her face.

At last, he stopped their trek, palms restraining their journey by tugging at her elbows. His fingers trailed down her arms until they came to her hands. With her eyes shut, his heated fingers traced the lengths of her fingers, stopping to rub against her ring finger in a sensual gesture. Blair gulped soundly at the carnal gesture, her heart pounding rapidly against her chest.

Leisurely, under his tender direction, her hands met the cooled exterior of a surface.

"Now open," he murmured, and her eyes slipped open at his command.

They were standing atop a black marble balcony overlooking New York City. Specks of white floated elegantly down from the dark sky to dot a mismatched map below. Loud horns resounded through the night air, along with heavy music from nearby nightclubs mixing in to make an intoxicating beat. Numerous lights littered the night sky, and they were so high up, she felt she could reach up and touch the forbidden heavens above the duo.

She felt breathless at the stunning scenery.

When a slight gust of wind blew across the two, Blair shivered slightly. Then, with such tenderness that she nearly wept, Chuck wrapped his arms around her figure lovingly, planting his head to rest atop her shoulder.

"Are you impressed?" he questioned with a hint of a smile laced within his voice. His deep voice resonated within her, and the warmth of his body permeated into her own until she was sure any hint of cold around her had been extinguished by his toxic flame.

Blair turned to spin around in his arms, facing his features and splaying her palms around his neck as she leaned backward against the balcony railing. Her fingers played with the tufts of hair at the back of his neck, lulling him in a smooth and daring gesture as his eyes slowly drifted shut at the tender ministrations. She had never been so close before, but now she could fully analyze the sharp angles of his face. Her fingers trailed over his features, marveling at the sharpness of his jaw, his thick and heavy eyebrows. Warm breath heated her thumb as it grazed over his lips to trace the intricate shape.

"You're so cold," she murmured, and his eyes revealed their brown color at her soft concern. His hands found their way to rest at her hips, fingers resting against the bare skin and crawling gently over the porcelain surface under the fibers of his dinner jacket.

"Only on the outside," he whispered, feeling her soft shudder at his words. He rested his forehead against hers, hearing her slight gasp at the fiery contact. They stayed that way for a few moments, his fingers grazing her bare back underneath the coat, sounds silenced, foreheads pressed together, her palms curling around his neck as their warm breath mingled with the close connection they shared.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

A bit of a longer chapter to compensate for the wait, I suppose :) I always hate extending updates past one week, but this pesky chapter just didn't want to post last night! Oh well, it's here tonight, and I hope you enjoyed :)

Also, I've stopped with the flashbacks in the past two chapters. Chuck and Blair need all the pages they can get, so I didn't really want to distract from their ongoing courtship with flashbacks. I hope that's been well received :)

Once again, thanks to all who reviewed! Seriously, here's a cyber hug to all you faithful supporters: I am in awe and blushing at your words :)

As always, reviews are adored! Here's to hoping to a new chapter by this weekend, and reviews will definitely incline me to fulfill that promise!

Thanks for reading! Until next time ;)


	14. Chapter 14: Drowsy Pleasure

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **EEK! I was so excited for all the reviews on the last chapter! I know many of you love the sensual CB, and trust me, it will continue :) After the mess made of yesterday's show, I think we all deserve it. Last night was extremely depressing for me: I couldn't really think about finishing up the chapter after being pretty much SUCKER PUNCHED in that face with that ridiculous episode. Not only because of the obvious NON-pairings that were invented (probably at a drunken bet, I'm sure of it. Let's piss off the biggest fanbase and see what happens!), but the general character mess-ups. Nothing that was done yesterday by the characters, I felt, was true and following development. Serena being the most obvious example. But hey, this is about the story, not about the degradation of a loved TV show.

Once again, thanks to all who reviewed, who alerted, and those who have stayed with me throughout this journey. You are divine :) Enjoy, and reviews are adored :)

**Chapter 14: Drowsy Pleasure**

_"You with the dark burly hair and the breathtaking eyes,_

_your inquiring glance that leaves me undone._

_Eyes that pierce and then withdraw like a blood-stained sword,_

_eyes with dagger lashes!_

_Zealots, you are mistaken - this is heaven."_

_Zebunisso's "Ghazal"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"Here we are, sir," Stan exclaimed with a sunny cheer, despite the later hour, as the limousine made its gradual stop in front of the apartment complex. The barely visible snowflakes had yielded their tumultous decent, leaving sheets of white sparkles atop the New York scenery. Even with the later hour, New York was still bustling with activity, the blaring horns of taxicabs still ever present and certainly difficult to dismiss. The thriving aspect of the city could never have been detained.

Noting the earlier command to keep his mouth shut entirely for the planned activities of the evening, he was pleased when Chuck did not shoot him a predatory glance at his cheery attempt to be cordial. His bright cerulean eyes shifted to his rear-view mirror, and he couldn't contain the wide smirk that stretched across his elder features at the scene that greeted him.

Instead of the two being on opposite sides of the vehicle, the farthest they could have situated themselves a few hours before, a mere few inches separated the duo at the moment. Her eyes weren't glued to the fleeting scenery outside the window; rather, they were staring in what Stan assumed to be wonder at the mesmerizing man beside her.

And Chuck wasn't staring out his side of the limousine either. Instead, his dark orbs were glued on the wide eyes of his accompany for the evening.

No words had been spoken for the entire drive back; perhaps no words _needed_ to be uttered.

Perhaps Chuck hadn't even _heard _Stan's minor mishap in disobeying orders.

The brunette before him certainly had locked his attention. Never before had Stan seen Chuck look so intensely at a woman before. Never mind giving her his utmost engrossment at simple glance. After having accompanied Chuck on many former dates, that was an accomplishment in itself for the lady.

First point? Awarded to the stunning brunette with shapely legs.

Blair smiled warmly, turning her eyes to the kind driver and thanking him with an amicable nature. Stan was even more amazed as Chuck promptly exited the vehicle from his side and held the door open for a beaming Blair Waldorf. Chuck had never held the door open for the woman after the date; usually, it was somewhat of a passing response when his date attempted to bid the younger Bass goodnight.

Second point would surely be awarded to this... _polite _Chuck.

Stan rolled his eyes inwardly in amusement at Chuck's antics. The New York air surely had had an effect on his superior's behavior.

Or was it the striking brunette that had Chuck behaving like a perfect gentleman?

_Right, _he murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly in confusion. _You've known the lad his entire life, and he still surprises you._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Blair, still wearing Chuck's dinner jacket, allowed Chuck to escort her to the revolving doors of the apartment complex. The night air had slightly cooled with the disappearance of the falling flakes of snow. Nodding slightly at the doorman, she turned to Chuck, eyes bright and hair slightly falling loose from the chignon of the earlier night.

"I had a great time tonight," she exclaimed, a shy smile beaming across her features. "You really know how to treat a lady."

Chuck merely nodded in acceptance, hands folded pristinely behind his back as he regarded her with a slender smirk. "It was certainly a pleasure, Blair."

Her lips thinned, eyes watching him coolly. His eyes were still scrutinizing her, still observing her every move and facial feature.

And then she turned abruptly to the revolving doors of her home. Of course, determined to sit by a warm fire and enjoy a well-deserved glass of chardonnay.

And Chuck remained standing in his place, watching her directed journey.

_This _was where he would know if his seduction had been successful.

_This _absolute moment would define his future plans.

He had planned the entire ordeal down to this instant, where he would watch the fruits of his labor either destroy or sanctify him.

After all the weeks of planning his first move.

Of speculating her reaction to his forward gestures.

Of researching every moment of her life, every heartbreak, every daily routine of the lives of those around her.

Of countless hours spent scrutinizing her words.

Of sleepless nights dreaming of her lithe body beneath him atop his Egyptian black silk sheets.

He had left the ball in her court. He had done everything he could have for the entire time to make her magnificently _intoxicated_ by his every touch and look.

Now _she_ would have to play some role in her own destruction.

He had given her the reins of her outright demise.

As her heels continued their way to the doors, he felt a hint of despair take root in his soul.

Had he tackled the situation from completely the wrong angle?

Was she just going to saunter out of his life, into the elevator, into her sheets, and forget the Chuck Bass that had attempted a heated seduction?

Christ, he was getting a mind-numbing headache. It had been such a sure deal before, laying out his well-made plans to his overexuberant father, clinking their glasses of scotch in a toast of a meticulously made seduction of the Waldorf heiress. Bart had been so pleased, so absolutely _elated _with joy at his son's deceivement that Chuck had made a silent promise to himself to grant his father's undying revenge.

At whatever cost necessary, regardless of the consequences.

After all, who could deny a father's sought-after acceptance of a belittled son?

Now he was not so sure of his destructive courtship. Had he been _too_ enthusiastic and hopeful, renting out an entire room to themselves in an Italian hall? Had he frightened her off with his brazen advances atop the marble balcony overlooking the brightest city in the world?

Had everything he had done been for _nothing_?

Before he could turn to stomp back to his limousine to prepare for a heavy scotch session for the night, he heard the soft click of heels stop their murderous melody.

And his heart nearly _soared_ with delight.

Blair turned around slowly, eyes a bit wide and unsure, bottom lip caught with her bottom teeth. A gentle breeze fluttered across the sidewalk, casting loose tendrils of curls to frame her curious features. Unconsciously, she tugged the dinner jacket even tighter to her bared body, and he felt an instant gleam of satisfaction that her unique scent would forever be perfumed into his coat.

For the purposes of the plan, of course. Nothing, nothing else.

And then the heavens allowed the goddess to speak.

"Would you like to come up?"

And then, in that instant, the calculating and smirking Chuck Bass took his rightful place at the sidewalk.

"I'd love to."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"The living room's right around the corner," Blair exclaimed with direction as the two strolled into her apartment. The elevator ride had been nothing but awkward. Her foot had nervously tapped against the hard floor, eyes glued to the shut doors and he had found the numerous buttons to be entirely interesting at that particular elevator.

As Blair hung the adored jacket, Chuck made a noteworthy conclusion. Dorota was nowhere to be found; Chuck assumed that the portly maid had already retired to her bedroom for the evening. A delicious smirk found its way onto his features; Dorota would have been a source of distraction for the night.

Her lacking presence had just granted Chuck _far_ more leisure in his gentle seduction.

And the less distractions presented, the far better it would be for him.

And most certainly, for Blair.

"Make yourself at home," she spoke with a smile, heading in the opposite direction and leaving Chuck at the foyer.

Chuck offered a courteous nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark dress pants. He took wide, devious steps to the area Blair had pointed to, stopping when he reached the entrance to the sitting room.

The area had been decorated with an extremely classic touch. Plentiful wide paintings decorated the walls, along with highly-detailed vases and meticulous-looking flowers adorning the area. A very pricey feeling had obviously made its existence.

No wonder she had been thoroughly amazed by the setting in their private room at D'Gello's. It so resembled the type of interior design she enjoyed.

One particular frame caught his watchful eye as it quickly scanned the room. He walked with a comforting air to stand before the delicate painting by the balcony's screen door.

The scene was that of an Italian city side, with its cramped, many-windowed buildings glued so tightly together by the docks. City natives stood atop the countless gondolas flowing gently across the shifting waves of crisp-blue water. Other bystanders mingled near the market, exchanging coins of silver with small fruits. Atop the buildings was a bright orange and pale pink composition of a large sky that boasted over the crumbling structures. The artist's name and the year of the work hung near the corner, scribbled in a blackish ink that was barely visible.

He immediately recognized the picture because he himself had stood at the painter's spot and watched the Italian locals wander through the many markets and bazaars near the docks of the gondola sightseeing structures. A warm smile overcame his features as he noted the sheer coincidence of it all, of Blair having a painting hung in her living room of a scene he had _personally_ witnessed years earlier.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he heard a voice murmur behind his form. A glass of cooled champagne was held out by a petite arm, and he took it graciously, eyes still locked on the stunning portrait.

"It was a gift from my mother a few years ago," Blair explained, a tone of wonder and a hint of adoration lacing her sweet voice. "A street vendor sold it to her at a ridiculous price, but she swore she would have it."

A light chuckle escaped his lips, still staring at the mixture of colors. "It's a striking painting," he spoke with admiration. "It's even more stunning when you've seen it in real life."

Blair turned to face Chuck, eyes wide and questioning. She was discernibly interested in his response. "You've been to this city?"

Chuck nodded slowly, turning back to face her curious gaze. "Venice, Blair," he murmured, eyes watching her solely. "I stood at that exact spot and watched the locals go on with their daily lives. It's all very fascinating, actually."

A moment of silence passed between them, and then she spoke.

"You seem very cultural. For the age and day, of course," she explained, a crimson blush staining her cheeks.

Chuck grinned. He wandered over to the large expansive couch and planted himself upon it, tossing one leg over the other and regarding her with absolute entrancement, the glass of champagne hanging from his lithe fingertips.

"Watching the people there, Blair, it's not like anything you've ever seen." His soothed words melted together in a bewitching melody as she slowly felt drawn into his thoughts, joining him on the couch. "The people there have a _real _passion for life, a _l'amore di vita. _They drink, dance, smoke, anything you can ever imagine because it's the _rapture _of living they adore."

Briefly, she noted the absolute fervor of his words, the easy slur of his tongue as it formed the foreign language. It was so stirring, she simply couldn't fathom an intelligent response, one that would deem her worthy of partaking in such a heartfelt discussion. But still, she managed to speak. "Sounds like quite a world."

He grinned, abstractedly inching closer to her. "I've been to many places in the world, Blair, and Venice will always remain in my heart."

She grinned, finding an opportunity to tease him. "And what about Paris? Doesn't your home country deserve any attention?"

He regarded her for a long moment, the heavy ticking of the grandfather clock at the far end of the room the only sound present.

"Paris is undoubtedly a beautiful city, Blair. But it's _Venice _you have to see before you die."

She smiled, touched by his amiable consideration.

"One day I'll take you there," he exclaimed. "To Venice, of course."

Her eyes narrowed, a hint of amusement shining deep in her dark orbs. "You seem very confident of yourself. Of a second date, that is."

He placed the champagne glass on the table beside him, moving forward inch by tantalizing inch until he had placed his hand upon her bare knee. Silently, she cursed the black material for having ridden up so provocatively. "You said you had a good time tonight."

Her lips thinned. "It doesn't mean that I haven't forgotten your little promise earlier today," she spoke, somewhat with an air of superiority, glad to finally have the momentary upper hand since the beginning of the evening. "Remember? The one that said you'd leave me alone forever if I agreed to _one_ night?"

The smile on his face grew even wider, if possible, and Blair found herself entranced by that infuriating smirk. "I remember. And you've kept your end of the bargain."

She nodded slowly, slightly hypnotized by his charming eyes. And just like that, that mesmerizing glance she had encountered at Petrozza's came to him at once. His eyes narrowed, his lips parted, and his head tilted to the side to fully view her intoxicating features.

"You're doing that thing again," she breathed, attempting to speak with his magnetic gaze staring her down. However, it merely came out as a gasped murmur. "What did I do?"

"Your eyes, Blair," he murmured, his mind not registering what he were speaking. "They... pull you right in."

His eyes regarded her, then moved to her hand resting to the side. His fingers edged to her hand, running the digits delicately over her open palm. He studied the lines and grooves etched upon her small hand, slightly pleasured at the paler skin they both sported.

The norms of modern-day society prided a tanner complexion. Celebrities crowded for a much-yearned spot before the sun, desperate for a fleeting kiss from the rays of sunlight.

However, paler complexion gave a sense of mystery. A sense of anonymity, a sense of the unknown withheld by the holder.

How _appropriate_ that he sported that particular shade.

How _ironic_ that she adored it as well.

"Have you ever been touched before, Blair?" he whispered, voice dripping with a dark intensity that sent a traitorous shiver down her spine.

A small, muted gasp escaped her lips as she struggled to maintain some semblance of control under his heated gaze and his wandering fingers. His scrutinizing gaze upon her supple palm was having a dizzying effect on her; she couldn't seem to place some tangibility back into her existence.

"Is that an appropriate question?" she managed to reply, lids half-shut as his warm breath heated her stretched neck. When had he gotten so _close_? "What do you expect me to say to that?"

A deep, hoarse chuckle emitted from his throat. She felt the vibrations of his chuckle against her porcelain neck, and her tongue wetted her lips in anticipation of what was to come. "A touch is a very powerful thing, Miss Waldorf," he replied, returning to an aura of darkness as the smile grew smaller with every passing second. "I'd like to show you that."

Her eyes shot open at his words. Tongue darting out to wet her lips once again, she watched his fingers continue their dangerous trek across her trembling skin. Finally, after he seemed to have sketched every path of the grooves, his index finger pressed lightly on the pulse point at her wrist.

Her breath hitched in her throat as his finger traveled up her arm in a deathly gradual pace. Even with the dark material of her sleeves covering her skin, his momentary touch sent electrical sparks deep into her veins until she was certain she would burst into an uncontrolled flame.

His index finger finally reached her shoulder. The stretched black fabric of her dress relented, either by his heated gaze or his talented fingers, she wasn't too sure. Her groggy mind wasn't willing to cooperate at that instant. The digit circled the gentle curve of her bare shoulder, tracing the porcelain skin of her collarbone leisurely until it reached her heaving breasts.

Unconsciously, but absolutely drowning in drowsy pleasure, she tossed her head back, exposing the milky skin at her throat as Chuck's finger calmly ran over the tops of her mounds.

Chuck watched her satisfaction, the long column of her throat bare as he kept his gaze on her shut lids, absolutely fascinated by the erotic goddess at his fingertips.

Splaying his palm against the warmed skin, his hand moved upwards, gently cupping the curve of her delicate neck for a simple moment. Blair let out a tiny moan as she felt his palm slowly travel downward, across the expanse of heated skin at her back. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the strokes became a bit slower, more torturous, less mindful of her internal desire to have him touch every part of her exposed body.

And those parts not currently exposed?

She would _gladly_ take care of that simple burden.

Chuck's fingertips, however, were not getting their hunger satisfied. His fingers desperately yearned to feel more of the perfected skin, to dip into the forbidden crevices and roam over the chilled skin to leave a flame of desire rushing through her veins. His fingers nearly begged to skim over the flat skin at her abdomen, to follow the curve of the underside of her breasts, to trace along the long expanse of her quivering thighs.

However, Chuck kept his fingers at a safe distance, refusing to allow too much pleasure to overtake his form.

But with each second of the protected journey, Chuck felt a profound desire to roam over the prohibited territories of her lithe body.

"Just one thing I have to do," Chuck whispered between clenched teeth, eyes shut in tight conflict as he felt perfected skin beneath his heated palm.

"Hmm?" he heard her throaty question, head still tossed back in reckless abandon. His fingers halted their supple caress at the small of her back, gently roaming up her naked back to finger the lovely strands atop her head.

His eyes still shut, his fingers roved across the silken strands until he found a hard surface buried deep into the soft silk. Pulling the bothersome stick out of her hair, the chocolate tresses fell in abandon around his fingers, which immediately tangled in the dark curls.

A wonderful mixture of a fragrant vanilla scent and delectable bath oils invaded his senses as he held the locks so delicately. His fingers began their gentle massage into her scalp as she stifled a heated moan from escaping her parted, prepared lips.

"Miss Blair? A phone call?"

His fingers stopped their loving ministrations against her scalp, diving downward to untangle themselves from the dark mess. She immediately tensed at the newest arrival, head tossing to the direction of the intruder to meet a shocked Dorota's gaze.

A robe-clad, slipper-wearing Dorota.

A wide-eyed, open-mouthed Dorota.

Greeted with the image of her superior tangled with the earlier stranger atop the couch, hands hidden and hair tossed wildly around her guilt-ridden features.

Blair gulped soundly, nodding slowly at Dorota, the dark curls around her face framing her features in a hasty manner. "I'll be right there," she managed to respond. Dorota, still staring wide-eyed at the duo, simply offered a non-existent curtsy and scampered out of the room, the doe-eyed bunny slippers conceding to her abrupt command.

Blair turned to Chuck, a hint of a smile of amusement beginning to make its way to her features. "I think you might have scared my maid."

He merely offered a grin, bringing his thumb to her cheekbone to trace the delicate bone ever so affectionately. "I don't believe I was the only guilty party."

Blair smiled shyly, resting her palm over his wandering one. "I'll only be a minute."

The couch shifted as she reluctantly pulled herself out of his seductive hold. Adjusting the dress so that the clothing courtly covered her uncovered shoulder, she grabbed her champagne glass and headed out the room.

Chuck, meanwhile, tossed his head back to rest against the arm of the chair. He took large and profoundly deep gulps of air. His heart, however, would not stop its furious pounding against his chest. Licking his lips, he nearly groaned as he imagined a vague vanilla taste.

What was _wrong _with him? One minute with the brunette, and he was reduced to a dripping horny puddle of pleasure!

_Never again, _he thought to himself, taking deeper breaths of calming air. _Finish the job, and get the hell out._

He would never allow himself to lose control so easily. The hair movement had definitely been unplanned; the entire evening, he had wished she had wore it done, but he supposed that it would have demeaned the value of her backless dress. But, when his palm had roamed over her skin, the sudden desire to free the captured curls had cruelly overtaken him, until he felt it necessary to allow his hand to travel upward and fulfill his utmost desire.

And the eye comment? Where the hell had _that _come from?

He shot upwards as he heard a familiar pair of heels make its way towards him. He would have to get back to reprimanding himself another time.

"I'm sorry, but that was Serena," he heard Blair exclaim with worry. "She's really upset and wants me to come over. Looks like her and Dan had another fallout."

She appeared before him, slightly more composed, but long tresses of chocolate still adoring her bared shoulders. A flushed look definitely had overcame her: her eyes had become huge and bright, and the tiny blush to her cheeks made the phrase even more obvious.

Chuck smiled warmly, glad that his one simple moment had been so properly successful. He stood up, grasping her hands in his and staring solely into her eyes. "Go see Serena. She needs you tonight."

Blair returned the smile. "She knows not to call me unless it's an emergency," she explained, ready to defend her actions. "I'm so sorry, but I know I'm cutting this off-"

He silenced her explanation with a finger to her lips, casting an amused glance in her direction. "That's okay. I really do understand, Blair," he spoke with affection. "After all, she's _my _friend as well."

Then, he couldn't suppress a smirk from planting on his face. "_She _led me to you, remember?"

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes regarding him intensely. Feeling the wandering digit against her lips was far more than Blair could handle. Instead, her lips softly moved forward, meeting the sharp angles of his face.

Butterfly wings made their delicate flutter against his cheekbone as Blair placed the most silkest of kisses upon him. His eyes shut in tender response at the fleeting encounter.

And then, just as fleetingly as it had came, it was gone.

"Thank God for that."

Chuck, slightly stumbly at her brazen actions and the warming sensation he had just experienced, merely nodded in return. Without thinking, he cupped her face, tracing the contours of her cheekbones ever so lightly, lulling her into a deep seduction as the lids of her eyes slowly drifted shut. "Goodnight, Blair."

And then, just as quickly as the butterfly wings had appeared, she opened her eyes, and he was gone.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

It wasn't a weekend update, but it was better than a _week_, right?

Right :)

Anyways, reviews are always ADORED, dearies. I'll be needing them to fully inspire me to write CB after that horrible episode and the ridiculous upcoming hiatus. So let's pray for all illogical GG writers, that they may get their stuff together and give us a show worthy of the fans.

Have a great week.

And once again, thanks to all still continuing with the story. Reviewers and alerters, you make my day :)


	15. Chapter 15: Coffee Stained Fingers

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **You guys continue to **astound** me with your reviews! I was so pleasantly eager to see the reception to this story. It's really going to start to pick up pace, so I hope you're ready for the ride! Also, I don't really know the last chapter that I sent responses to the reviews, so I'm sorry I haven't responded to these wonderful notes. I think I'll just start with responding to the reviews in the last chapter and see where we go from there :) Reviewers, you make my day, and you know who you are :)

Once again, thanks to all who reviewed, who alerted, who favorited, etc. Enjoy!

**Chapter 15: Coffee-Stained Fingers**

_"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible _

_will make violent revolution inevitable."_

_John F. Kennedy_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The Benjamin was a luxury hotel located in the heart of Manhattan, and one of the more sought-after hotels by traveling businessmen. There was a requirement of a three-month waiting period for all worthy guests before their stay could be finalized, regardless of class or monetary value. The hotel's sophisticated boutique style gave all inhabitants a sense of working at ease, surrounding them with their very own personal business center. Its style boasted "modern elegance" with a touch of vitality and warmth. In fact, although its stay was extremely pricey, all who stayed at the luxury hotel left elated, boasting of the enviable service and kind nature of its employees.

But the hotel most certainly did not require equally... warm guests.

Chuck Bass groaned in discomfort as the rays of bright sunshine seeped through the open blinds, engulfing the room in an overwhelming splash of blinding light. The bothersome daylight trickled its way atop the bed, leaving Chuck absolutely merciless to his plight. Even in a New York Winter, the orange beams of sunshine still managed to flaunt their presence, even to all thsoe unwilling to be swayed.

Wincing slightly at the most _unwelcome_ intruder, his legs tangled in the woven sheets, attempting to blot out the annoying gesture. Scratching his chest absently, he squinted a bit at the incoming light. When the light proved too great in its intensity, his fingers shoved their way into his messy locks, tugging mercilessly at the roots. The mind-numbing headache he was currently sporting was certainly a _bitch_, no doubt about it.

Vaguely, he recalled the earlier night's hazy events. He immediately remembered pushing his way through the elevator's inhabitants as it made its gradual stop at his floor. Two elderly women, no doubt accompanies to their elder husbands, had huffed in irritation at Chuck's obviously frantic departure. His ears had vaguely registered their degradation of his impolite generation, prompting him to roll his eyes inwardly in annoyance. New York society women were a _bother, _sometime, no doubt about it.

He had pushed through his door, room 1812, tripping slightly on a loose shirt thrown haphazardly against the wooden floors, and cursed loudly. He had grabbed the nearest tumbler situated by the bed, and generously filled a glass with the adored amber liquid.

When the glass was depleted of its last drop, he had hastily refilled the glass again and again, tossing back mouthfuls until he had lost count.

American scotch was _heavenly_.

Then, he had stripped of his clothing, thrown his body against the navy sheets of his bed, and passed out from sheer alcohol consumption.

Chuck groaned once more as the events of the night before fit perfectly into place.

Chuck only got so rip-roaring drunk when he was trying to forget something. A business deal gone bad (which did not happen _too_ often, he vividly noted), a disappointed look from his father, all such things he could easily choose to leave behind with a couple of blessed glasses of good scotch.

Just _what_ was he trying to forget?

Christ. Blair Waldorf.

Blair Waldorf, with the shapely legs and the bared back, open for all viewing pleasure.

Blair Waldorf, with the beating pulse point and the palest of porcelain throats he had ever seen.

Blair Waldorf, with the wide doe-eyed chocolate orbs and the fullest lips that nearly _begged_ to be captured.

Or was it _his_ lips that begged for release?

Another groan, far more deep and furious than the previous, escaped Chuck's lips. Why was this fiery brunette having such a powerful effect on him? Hadn't he lost control already before, staring in wonder at her perfection at their Italian lunch? Gaping openly at her kind nature, her wide smile?

Losing himself in the depths of her eyes at the bar in Victrola, until he had been given a most _frigid_ reminder of his forward advances?

What the _hell_ was he thinking?

A ringing sound interrupted his demeaning thoughts, and Chuck distantly noted his cellular phone at his nightstand. Shooting up quickly, he cursed the heavens as a shot of pain and profound haziness overcame him. Taking a simple moment to readjust himself, his fingers sought the mechanical device and held it to his ear, not bothering to check the caller's identity.

"Hello?" he moaned groggily, running his fingers through his hair again until he was sure that it was standing on its ends. He hated mornings like these. More importantly, he hated _morning _calls after a night spent attempting to forget a certain chocolate-eyed vixen.

_"Charles? Are you all right?"_

The earlier fatigue that had overcame him vanished with that effortless reply. He stood on his feet, bringing clarity and a hint of bewilderment at the chosen caller for the morning. "Father?"

He sounded like a needy teenager!

_"Are you all right?"_

Chuck gulped soundly, tightening his eyes at the headache that was sure to resurface. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to instill lucidity in his response. His father would surely be wondering what drugs his son was currently on.

"I'm fine. I just have a headache, that's all."

Chuck heard Bart clear his throat on the other side, and he listened attentively to his father's words. This was the second time Bart had called since the entire task, so whatever he had to say was obviously significant.

After all, he had taken time out of his demanding day to oversee the destruction of an heiress, had he not? The head of a major corporation had set aside a few minutes for Chuck, to which he felt extremely honored and especially pressured.

_"I do hope the assignment is going as planned, with little disturbances. Have you discovered anything yet?"_

Chuck licked his lips in agitation. His father clearly wanted some positive feedback. Numerous PI's and aids had been discharged from Bart's direction to discover whatever they could to incriminate the Waldorfs. The business associates would surely start to talk about Chuck's absence. Chuck's leave from the company had temporarily lost Bart a valuable asset to Bass Industries. This meant that more work was being taken on by the elder Bass head, which surely wouldn't put his father in a better mood.

If his father knew that he and Blair's encounters hadn't lengthened from a _single_ touch…

He wouldn't want to hear that his own son was failing due to an… overactive desire for his target.

His finger inattentively scratched at the mahogany surface of the nightstand. "No, sir. But she's slowly trusting me; it'll take a while, but when it does happen, the task will become far easier."

There. That response had seemed truthful enough.

However, Bart's voice held no sense of disbelief or annoyance, but held a monotonous tone.

_"I sent something over to help you with your investigation. It should arrive,"_ he explained, _"now."_

As soon as Bart had concluded, the doorbell to his suite rang.

_"I'll be in touch."_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The New York flakes had calmed for the day, halting their gentle descent from the heavens. The city was covered in sheets of white snow, the crunches of New York feet disturbing the perfected sheets.

Chuck Bass kept his gaze to his shoes, a pair of sleek sunglasses worn to hide his identity from others, most notably, a certain brunette. Although it seemed a bit ridiculous to sport the shades in the dead of winter, it was a common style back in Europe, and a style that Chuck Bass knew all too well.

He ascended the stairs of the somewhat crumbling building, located a few blocks from his hotel building, flinging the door open and sauntering inside its warmth. The abandoned library was nearly nonexistent, and the manager had had plans to shut the place down due to lack of activity and the recent overpowering recession. But with a few words and more _generous_ donations, the place had stayed open for Chuck's fervent research.

It was the most ideal place for Chuck to complete his ardent studying of the lives of the Waldorfs. The place held a more Gothic aura to its name, displaying statues of gargoyles and high-vaulted ceilings in its structure. Countless figurines, paintings, and sculptures decorated the holy library, along with marble floors that echoed the sounds of its nearly nonexistent guests. Because the more fashionable parts of the library were nearly unfunded, the manager had been incredibly eager to allow Chuck to stay and work for many hours throughout the week.

And Chuck had certainly been unrelenting in his monetary gratitude.

Chuck promptly removed the sunglasses, revealing red-rimmed eyes due to his earlier hangover that was sure to disappear in a couple of hours, as usual. His steps were determined and quick as he made his way over to the desk beside the doorway.

Gregorio, an aged Italian man and head of the library, smiled warmly at Chuck. Small, Franklin-like spectacles sat perched atop his pointed nose, with black beady eyes peering over the curved edges of his glasses. The man was nearly balding, but tufts of white hair peeked out from behind his ears, the last remaining stand of his youth. Gregorio had a crooked smile, due to an accident many years ago that he had proudly dictated to Chuck during one of their earlier sessions. Although the whispering threat of his lifelong dedication being shut down loomed over his gleaming head, the man still held himself with a righteous dignity, wearing a perfectly-pressed suit and a small red bowtie to match. His hands were folded at the desk, wrinkled hands that had worked effortlessly at his enduring creation.

"Your requests are at your usual location," Gregorio explained with a heavy accent, his hand gesturing towards the expansive hallway to the right.

Chuck nodded slowly and began his trek through the corridor. The library was nearly empty, expect for a few faithful patrons dedicating their time to sweep the more dusty part of the magnificent structure. Chuck offered curt nods to those people, acknowledging their presence and recognizing a few ritual patrons.

He swept through the corridor and into the expansive room at the end. Dozens of floor to ceiling bookcases were lined at the end of the room, organized in an orderly fashion. A few tables were scattered in the empty space near the entrance from the corridor, and the walls were decorated with limitless photographs and historical documents, symbolizing the exuberant charm of the older library. Many luxuries had to be spared to save the library from shutdown, so the room still housed a miniscule air of emptiness within its walls. The room was void of any human being, leaving an immeasurable amount of books and references at Chuck's fingertips. Because of the older age of the library, it was known to house aged chronological scripts, newspapers, and some tabloid magazines of the early 21st century. Along with those references was the largest collection of books and novels Chuck had ever seen a library house. In fact, about three-quarters of the arranged bookcases had contents that had remained untouched for the past few decades due to their seemingly nonexistent purpose to the citizens of New York. Gregorio constantly told Chuck about his attempts to fully organize the contents of the shelves, in hopes of attracting more patrons to the art of fine literature. It was an ongoing project, indeed.

The first day he had been at the library, he had taken the opportunity to merely wander the many aisles of the bookcases, taking note of the titles of numerous books and magazines at their shelves. Chuck had strolled through those neglected bookcases, running his coffee-stained fingers over the aged spines of the books, collecting particles of dust atop his fingertips. In truth, he had found himself fascinated by the plethora of history he had encountered within the aisles of the aged library. Some days, he would scan his index finger over a collection of books, choose a random cover, and spend a few minutes leaning against the bookcase, eyes leisurely reading the words printed upon the page. It was a welcome distraction from the more demanding and extremely exhausting research he had imparted upon himself, as well as the perfect planning required to seduce the Waldorf heiress. After a few moments of playing this invented game, he would retire to his usual table and begin hours of research that would have him yanking at the dark strands atop his head in frustration, tie hanging loose, coffee cups and sheets of paper occupying the majority of the table.

Taking his typical seat at a round table far from the entrance, Chuck leaned back slightly and took a heavy breath, noting the pounds of material Gregorio had laid out for him. The man had truly been a blessing in terms of finding the references. He would ask no questions, but simply follow orders, mostly to ensure a hefty sum of money left at the table after Chuck's departure. Chuck enjoyed that about Gregorio; the man easily trusted in the power of cash and did not question Chuck's motives. It made the research far easier for a mentally exhausted Chuck; better to have as much offered aid with the least headache possible.

After taking the blessed breather before the plunge, Chuck leaned forward and began to rifle through the pounds of material laid before him. Chuck's request had been simple; as much information on the Waldorf conglomerate, from the last fifty years and on. Truthfully, the purpose of the materials was to find out as much as possible about Blair's childhood, but he didn't want to see too obvious in his research possibilities. After all, Gregorio was still a New Yorker, and Chuck had come to realize that New Yorkers held a certain bond that was to be clearly noted. How easy would it be for Gregorio to send a story about a slightly frazzled man looking into the life of Blair Waldorf to the tabloids?

He wanted absolutely no chance of _that_ ever occurring. It would be detrimental to his assignment if any suspicions of knowing Blair Waldorf before Serena's introduction leaked out to any untrustworthy source.

The next few hours were spent in what Chuck liked to call his "research hell". Gregorio had laid out countless newspapers, magazines, and books having any mention of the word 'Waldorf' within its pages. Figures, fashion icons, and business travels were all clearly sketched, and with chronological order, of the widespread success that had increasingly flourished for the Waldorf fashion industry. However, none of it was any use to Chuck.

When he reached 1993, the year Blair was born, the research started to become slightly more interesting. She had been a showgirl, a dancer, a singer, starred in a play, participated in an environmental project, and began her modeling career by age eight. Included within the files were newspaper clippings deeming Blair's success. One particular clipping held a beaming Blair Waldorf, curtsying slightly and wearing a pink princess dress at her first modeling session, a crucial event for the head of the Waldorf modeling company, which obviously required public attention. Chuck found himself smiling at the bright smile Blair sported within the picture, her hair cropped at the shoulders in a childish bob, but her eyes still holding that same innocence he had seen many times before. The rest of the files included some still images of her modeling career, as well as a particular engagement announcement he had seen before.

Chuck sighed in exhaustion. He could have guessed all of her endeavors as a child; after all, what sort of things did the daughter of a famed entrepreneur engage in as a young girl? Things, of course, that would aid the reputation of the company whilst giving Blair a meaningful future. Her pageants and academic awards, Chuck assumed, had all been ways for Eleanor Waldorf to show off her most sought-after creation.

Hadn't that been the reason for Blair's entrance into her mother's lifelong work?

Taking a generous sip of the bitter coffee he had grown to stand, Chuck ran his fingers through his messy hair. His eyes shifted to the grandfather clock near the entrance, noting the time. 1:00. His dark orbs returned to the pile of newspapers that had been resting for attention. He supposed he could look through half of those newspapers before a much-deserved lunch break.

Grabbing a handful of the earliest papers, Chuck absently ran through them, tossing aside the useless notes of information. Many of the titles were obviously worthless, dating some fashion scandals and such that had somewhat involved Eleanor Waldorf, but had been easily handled with minimal reputational damage.

But none spoke of something previously unknown about Blair Waldorf. Nothing incriminating, nothing about her history that would leave her utterly destroyed.

Chuck sighed heavily, his frustration growing with each toss of the tabloid atop the table. There had to be something within this pile of records that would be questionable! He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, but the information presented was not strong enough to build a case against his father's hated enemy. What he had to find had to be completely destructive, absolutely disparaging to the Waldorf name that it would remain unforgettable in the Upper East Side. Not only would it demolish the Waldorf reputation, but it would see that their business would no longer flourish as it had done so steadily in the past.

Just before flinging the entire pile of meaningless sheets in blatant disappointment, his fingers froze as his eyes quickly recognized a name atop the tabloid below the one he had recently tossed.

_Bass Divorce Finally Finalized_

His hands shook intensely. His entire body remained motionless, mouth in a tight line as he fully contemplated the article before him. The tabloid, dating in October of 1986, showed a blackened picture of a younger man, his eyes staring at the ground as he continued his trek, a collection of burly men crowded around him, one of them lifting his palm upward to stop the onslaught of paparazzi pictures. The picture was aged, but Chuck had seen the figure countless times before to immediately recognize his identity.

There was his father, Bart Bass.

Widened eyes continued to read the small section of the article, directly below the grainy picture of his father.

_After months of no word from Bass Industries, sources have discovered that the Bass head is finally tying up the final ends to his divorce. His newest ex-wife, Eleanor Waldorf, has refused any comment and is unwilling to appear for interviews and questioning. However, investigation has discovered that the two have been separated for the past couple of months and have not been seen together as such. After the public outcry of Bart Bass's sexual violation made its way into New York society, Eleanor has remained with her family in the newest parts of the Upper East Side. Bass Industries will offer no comment on the divorce, but our sources here are convinced that the divorce was used to save the dwindling Bass name, tarnished after news of Bart's unholy acts. The annual board meeting will take place sometime next week, and investigators speculate that the board will take Miss Waldorf's recent outcry into their discussion. Here, Bart Bass is surrounded by many bodyguards and refuses to respond to questions._

_The two will have been married for one complete year this coming November._

His eyes quickly scanned the rest of the article, which spoke of speculation on the division of the estate and estimated future plans of the two.

Chuck took deep, calming breaths, his eyes still locked on the shadowed form of his father in the older photograph.

So Eleanor Waldorf and his father had been… involved.

In a relationship.

_Married_, in fact.

Bart had certainly neglected to mention that _tiny_ detail to Chuck before he sent him off to the states.

But how could he not have discovered this information sooner? After weeks of research in the library, never before had he encountered any sort of information on Eleanor's marital history. With Blair, he had discovered the names of her countless boyfriends and European suitors, but Eleanor's romantic past had remained… lost. It had puzzled Chuck for a few moments earlier in his stay, but he simply deemed that part of his assignment seemingly unnecessary in his discovery of information on Blair Waldorf.

But… his brows furrowed as he fully reflected over this newest mind-revolving information.

Why didn't his father mention to him his tangible connection to the Waldorfs?

Before, in his office in the beginning of his task, Bart had simply claimed that he had worked with Eleanor in earlier times when he had been primarily located in the states.

That Eleanor, a young business associate who had not yet taken the reins of her family's company, had been jealous of his loving relationship with Misty, that she had made up some _ridiculous_ story regarding Bart.

That Misty had been so incredibly upset when Eleanor claimed a sexual violation had taken place.

Bart had painted this disheartening picture of a clear-teared Misty rushing to the nearest taxi, bags packed, golden hair flying in a mess, unknowing of the truth, headed for the airport. It had certainly been an open realization for Chuck; he had never been divulged the true means of his mother's death. He hadn't ever known how his beloved mother had been taken so cruelly from him.

But, this part of the story Chuck knew _all_ too well.

The crunching metal, the crimson liquid seeping out from the crushed vehicle, and Misty's soul joining the heavens.

A young Chuck Bass, screaming in agony at his mother's death, a thin needle stabbed into his arm to reduce him to a quivering mess of haze.

And the sole love of Bart's life?

Gone, leaving Bart depressed and destroyed for years to come. His father was nearly unapproachable after his mother's death. The drunken stupors he consistently underwent in the darkest hours of the night were given the most inconspicuous cures that always treated Bart's hangovers. After Misty's death, prestigious nannies raised Chuck for the rest of his childhood.

Before, Chuck could recall warm family moments, spending nights playing games with his mother and father before retiring to bed in pure elated exhaustion.

And Christ, he could remember. The endless blue ocean color of his mother's eyes. The billowing waves of golden curls that rested at her shoulders. The way she always smelled of lilacs and honey mixed in with a touch of cinammon. The bright smile she always reserved especially for Chuck, the beam of light in her world. Misty had imparted upon the family a sense of moral right and wrong that had them participating in charities and do-good activities. There had always been a fresh meal in the house, the luxuries of their rich lives seemingly unused by his mother, who had grown up a childhood of American virtues and work. They had been the perfected family of the Upper East Side, the epitome of love and commitment to helping others in a society that deemed self-preservation and self-reliance. She had truly left her mark.

And after her death, change came drastically. Bart abandoned his fatherly duties to complete his role as the head of Bass Industries. The cooking and cleaning was left to maids and nannies that remained for full-length terms. Instead of a walk to school guided by his mother's hand, Stan became Chuck's new driver for the rest of his educational career. The charities' letters were left unanswered, the nightly rituals of games and playful talk ended abruptly.

The entire atmosphere of the house went from a place of hopeful growth to a sanctuary of drunken reservation and the haunting ghost of Misty Bass.

Chuck sighed heavily, leaning back against his seat in exhaustion. He had been so eager to accomplish the assigment, mostly for his father's approval, but also for another reason. A small part of him had wanted some sort of vengeance, some _catharsis _against the woman who had so easily destroyed his family. Growing up with an emotionally incapable Bart Bass was a punishment that he would never wish upon any child. The constant feeling of rejection, of pity, of never being _good enough _had essentially overtaken his entire life, that any means to reclaim any sort of acceptance had been so easily taken. Misty's ghost still lingered over the Bass family, and her presence had haunted Bart Bass since her death, rendering him incapable of the proper love and support needed to foster a child.

But... things had certainly changed. The newspaper heading before him was proof enough that his father hadn't relayed to Chuck the entire truth. Just _why _was his father so adamant in lying about his connection to Eleanor Waldorf, deeming her as a business associate rather than his earlier ex-wife?

What was he trying to hide?

And who _exactly _was he trying to hurt? Blair Waldorf?

Or the woman who had done him so much wrong long ago?

After all, Eleanor had _something _to do with Misty's death.

But just _how _extensive had her damage been? Who was the _real_ culprit behind the entirety?

And where did this leave him with Blair Waldorf?

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Sorry for no CB in this chapter :( I just really wanted to show how conflicted Chuck is at the moment. This is really the beginning stages of his inner conflict. And writing a struggling Chuck is so delicious: I love it!

So what did you think about that reveal? We'll find out more; I just really felt we needed to know _something _about why Chuck is so eager to complete this assignment. Hopefully I got that point across, with him needing some sort of catharsis from Misty's death.

The next chapter is about halfway done and will have some CB! And some good CB, if I say so myself :) Next week is going to be crazy, as I'll be having guests over, and I don't think I'll have a chance to write then. But there WILL be an update before then; that I can promise you. Maybe two, if we're lucky!

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are adored, as always :) Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16: Ashen Lining

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Wow. Wow, wow, wow. These past two weeks have been **hectic**, let me tell you. I'm very sorry that I didn't get this chapter out like I'd promised, but this chapter was ready to post about a week ago. There I was, finishing it up, extremely satisfied with how it was going, and I was on a roll. And then, all of a sudden, my computer **shuts down**. This has happened to me before, so I simply restarted the machine, already planning the next few words on the Word document I was writing on, giddy to post it that same night.

And then, a blue screen.

Another time. Another blue screen.

I believe you all know where this is going. Yes, I lost all my files. Yes, I lost my computer due to a hardware problem. Yes, I currently don't have my own computer to work with.

It was so incredibly saddening to NOT have saved my file in backup, and then to find out I lost that ongoing chapter. It took me a few days to find the energy AND the intuition to rewrite the chapter, and trust me, that was a nerve-wracking process. But, your reviews really pulled me through. I really didn't want to leave the story, so I finally decided to write the chapter just for you faithful reviewers and alerters out there. Trust me, it was a writer's challenge, but I finally managed to get it out.

And seriously, it was all due to those reviewers, alerters, and favoriters. Without you, I wouldn't have had the energy nor the desire to continue the story, as I'm currently depressed at having to find a new computer and some new software as well.

I'm currently working on my sister's computer, and I'm pretty sure I'll be having some leniency in that department. Thankfully, I refound that initial excitement in continuing the story, so updates should be coming up. Exams will be starting in the next couple of weeks, however, so I'm not really sure how often I will be updating, but please note that I have not forgotten this story.

Now: onto the chapter. Enjoy! And please review; they really make my day :)

Once again, thanks to all who reviewed, who alerted, who favorited, etc. Enjoy!

**Chapter 16: Ashen Lining**

_"Stranded in this spooky town_

_Stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down_

_This floor is crackling cold_

_She took my heart, I think she took my soul."_

_Kings of Leon, "Closer"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

By three o'clock, Chuck had rummaged through the entire contents of the material Gregorio had laid out for him. Hundreds of newspapers, books, and research articles had been scoured under the keenest of eyes, and he had lain back with a sigh when the last article was tossed against the table in obvious defeat, a noise unique to the other sounds of the rustling sheets of paper that had filled the library earlier. The room he occupied had been void of any presence since he had arrived, allowing him to fully delve into all he had been given with the least bit of worries on the curious nature of most New Yorkers. Gregorio hadn't entered since that morning, so Chuck was left to his own defining work.

All previous desires to discover all he could about Blair Waldorf's life had virtually disappeared. His earlier fleeting sense of hunger had immediately diminished with the newest information he had found. Instead, such a disappearance had propelled him to work and discover any more documentation he could on the secret marriage of Bart Bass and Eleanor Waldorf.

And, as Chuck could have predicted, there existed no more sources.

That one miniscule section of the article he had discovered earlier had been the only source dictating the pairing of his father and Blair's mother. Everything else had been linking Eleanor's general rise in her company to Blair's accomplishments in the modeling industry, along with a few more unimportant articles relating some corporate scandals and such, which was to be expected in such a competitive market that was quickly rising in stature. Bart's name had never even been mentioned again, only printed in that one simple article he had read countless times since its discovery.

To be honest, though, this did not surprise Chuck in the least. In fact, he had been expecting such disappointment as soon as he had put down the short article and began his thorough investigation of the Waldorf past. With Bart's reputation, he could have easily called for the covering of such a scandalous marriage. He was a global entrepreneur, a man of many powers and people that worked diligently under his command. Who would want a failed marriage to tarnish a man's history? With a simple word, Bart could have had several trainees destroy any sort of documentation linking his name to Eleanor's. After all, even with his advanced role in the company, Chuck hadn't found such information in the documentation of Parisian offices, and if he had, he surely wouldn't have forgotten such an altering revelation.

Eleanor's parents had also been fabulously wealthy, so any person could have speculated her parent's involvement in hiding that particular part of her past. Nevertheless, who would associate with a woman who had been part of a heated humiliation with a well-known New Yorker?

So, although his father had been adamant in erasing that particular part of his history, Chuck had found the one tangible link to the tight scarring of Eleanor Waldorf's pristine reputation.

In truth, Chuck found it _extraordinary_ that this one simple article had landed in his wandering hands. It was a credible source indeed; the one evidence that could prove his father's dishonesty in the entire investigation.

He merely thanked the heavens for being at that particular library, at that particular time, with the most willing of hosts to aid in his ample research.

Without it, he could have been blinded to the most important aspect of his mission here in the states.

His eyes continued to see brief images of black printed ink as he trudged with fatigue out of the library. He nodded with grace to Gregorio, who offered the widest of smiles and an animated wave to the departing Chuck, before turning back to sweep the corridors with diligence.

Chcuk merely grinned at the man's energetic antics. He would surely be pleased with the generous donation Chuck had left him at his occupied table. It would be enough to sustain the library for a couple more months, even without any form of aid from participants and sponsors.

He surely deserved it.

Striding into his hotel room with quick and determined steps, he shed his clothing with frenzy, making a messy, disorganized trail from the doorway to the shower stall. He yearned for a heated sensation after the cold New York winter he had just stepped out of, so the shower seemed to be the most perfect of destinations before his intended stop for the afternoon. Stepping into the scorching heat after allowing the shower to run for a few moments, he winced as the pounding raindrops fell against his back in a rhythmic motion.

The blistering heat was a most invited distraction from his earlier mind-numbing discovery. The hypnotic beating of the water against his shoulders lulled his mind into thought. He would have to question his father on his dishonesty in his own manner; Bart would surely take it as an accusation if Chuck did not play it off in a clever manner. Yes; the time would come for Chuck to confront his father on the essential realization. Chuck was desperate to learn why his father had hidden that particular piece of history from Chuck, or a thorough explanation of the "violation" he had been involved in with Eleanor Waldorf, but he knew that his discovery had been coincidence (and good luck, for that matter) in full length. Finding out any more about the marriage would be nearly impossible, especially now that his intended time in the states was running out. For now, he had to concentrate his entire efforts on the capture of his target, before Eleanor's return from Europe.

Eleanor would immediately recognize Chuck, and even if she couldn't identify the man who had ensnared Blair's heart, she would surely discover his relation to Bart Bass. And that was to be avoided, at all costs. If Eleanor was to gain access to any information linking Chuck to his father, he would never be able to fully complete his mission. Her mother would clearly do everything in her power to keep her daughter away from the son of Bart Bass, even if such care and compassion never showed in her current relationship with Blair.

For now, the information would have to be dismissed. He had to delve fully into his mission, with all means necessary, of the capture of his target.

A certain temptress with the most dazzling of chocolate eyes.

The relentless beads of water hammered against his skin, turning the supple flesh a shade of bright pink. Chuck tightened his eyes at the searing temperature, enjoying the sweltering environment in the shower stall, aware of only that sweltering heat engulfing his entire form. He braced his palms against the cooled tiles, allowing the heat to overcome his tense body as he leaned against the tiles in pure exhaustion.

Vaguely, a hint of vanilla permeated the air around him. He froze at the scent that surrounded him, leaning his head downward and shutting his eyes tightly, his weight still supported by the porcelain tiles.

He felt a petite arm wrap around his waist, the fingers splaying against his hip in an intimate gesture, in an effort to bring the strange body closer to his own.

A wetted curl pressed itself against his shoulder, along with a smooth cheek that make the contact sensual, slippery, and smooth.

A pointed toe traced the outline of his calf with a slow trail of seduction.

Chuck took deep, heavy breaths, inhaling the endless steam surrounding his shaking form. His head lifted to meet the striking shower head, willing the additional heat to make his intruder evaporate with its warmth.

Then, the vanilla scent vanished. The fingers disappeared from his hip, the cheek pulled away from his shoulder, and the toe that had trailed against his leg faded away with the pounding water droplets.

Leaving a slightly quivering and most naked Chuck in the tiny space.

Chuck's palms slammed against the tiled walls in a tight frustration. He bared his teeth, groaning with anger at his most surprising illusion.

Blair Waldorf was following him wherever he went.

Even reducing him to a slippery puddle in the _shower_.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

It was a quarter to four o'clock by the time Chuck toweled himself dry after his interrupted shower. It took much mental strength and determination, but he had finally managed to keep a certain illusion of a beautiful brunette out of his shower after his most _welcomed_ intrusion.

And much mental strength was required, _indeed_.

He brushed his dark locks in an elegant fashion to the side, smiling at his reflection. At least he could always count on his exquisite fashion sense. That part of his character certainly hadn't changed since he had undertaken his assignment. His dark black pants and white button-down shirt, along with his matching dark wool buttoned coat, gave him a sense of mystery and the unknown. Tugging on his black leather gloves, Chuck held his cellular phone against his ear, ordering that day's lunch special to be packed in take-out boxes and sent to his room as soon as possible.

He was off to a certain temptress with dazzling eyes.

Eleanor's modeling business was located a few blocks away from the Benjamin, allowing Chuck to walk the way to the large, expansive building that seemed to loom over the buildings beside it. The snow seemed to halt for the afternoon, yet the winds had picked up considerably, propelling Chuck to tug his wool coat even tighter to his body, the bag of food beside him rustling with the energized winds of the day.

As he stepped through the revolving doors, and into the warmth that the building provided, he took a deep breath, remembering all the times he had watched Blair step into those same doors through the tinted windows of his limousine, parked in different locations throughout the week. _Stalked_ would be the more accurate word, he supposed, to describe his earlier stage of observation.

It amused him to know that during that time, as he had watched Blair step into her job at the calculated time, he had yearned to tangle those dark, perfected curls in his fingers, to breathe in the fragrance of her pale neck, to splay his fingers against her palm.

To merely _touch_ the porcelain doll that had sauntered into his life with the most enticing of hips.

Acts he had been _granted_ only last night.

Back before he had know her, back before he had been enthralled by her intoxicating smile.

And she was a porcelain doll; of that he was sure. So fragile, yet so tempting to feel all that it had to offer. Her ordered, scheduled life and the many breakups she had suffered at the hands of callous men made her so delicate, so easily breakable. However, deep inside her, a Blair he had encountered during last night's interlude at the couch, was a Blair that nearly stunned him with intensity. At that moment, her delicate nature had disappeared, leaving him with a fiery vixen that was willing to explore all the sensations that he had to offer. When she had arched her back for him, she had initiated a step that would invite him to fully explore every aspect of her delicious character.

She was so perfected, so flawless, just like a porcelain doll, that she only enticed him into an atmosphere of pure desire.

A child yearned to touch the perfections of a dressed-up doll.

And he yearned to explore the haunted crevices of Miss Waldorf's perfected nature.

The reception area was a grand room, exquisitely designed with black and white tiled flooring and white walls encompassing the area. There were no random sculptures, no varying desks, no doors scattered across the room. It was a quiet area, with a lack of hurrying business associates and such rushing through the rooms, like he had been accustomed to all his life. Bass Industries was a thriving location of communication, phone calls, and determined businessmen ready to make their stamp on the company. Even as a child, he could recall the towering figures that had flowed past him, desperate to fulfill that day's accomplishments, as he had held on to his father's hand tightly during one of their many moments together at the company.

However, here in New York, Eleanor's modeling industry held a pristine aura, of a high-society appearance. The room was bare, except for a simple desk in the center, and many frames hanging against the white walls.

He supposed it was a perfected version of Eleanor Waldorf herself.

A simple mahogany desk was situated in a perfected manner in the middle, the only visible sign of furniture, as far as Chuck could see. Chuck's steps echoed loudly as he made his way over to the desk with slow steps. His eyes trailed over the white walls, which were covered in countless frames of towering size. The frames held pictures of fashionable modeling poses, mainly occupied by Blair's successes. He recognized a few from the folder his father had provided him in his office a few weeks earlier, a time that he deemed so far, back before he had known Blair and her seductive ways. Since that time, the photos only served to validate the beauty that she withheld. However, he was drawn to a certain frame of a young Blair, a picture he had never seen before. Her eyes were wide and bright, so innocent in the face of the most competitive businesses in the world. She must have been nine years old, maybe ten, if he had to guess. Her sunshine yellow dress caught with the wind, fluttering her shoulder-length curls in a gentle frenzy as she smiled widely for the camera, a smile granted to all who were worthy of it.

A small, aging woman sat behind the sole desk in the reception area. Her graying curls fell gently against her shoulders, a pair of glasses perched elegantly against her nose, the red cashmere of her sweater paired superiorly with an off-white set of pearl beads. She mirrored the exact image of New York high society.

"What can I do for you?" she questioned with an air of suspicion, her words spoken with a slow and concentrated manner as she eyed the stranger's choice of outfit with mistrust. His presence was certainly brow-raising; she wasn't expecting anyone to walk through the doors for quite some time.

Chuck smiled, his words clearly spoken. "I'm here to see Miss Waldorf."

The woman's eyes widened, her brows rose, and her lips formed a thin line, taken back by the man's simple request. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

Then, she lowered her judging eyes away from Chuck's form, turning back to the varying sheets laid in front of her. She made no move to escort the man, simply returning back to her activity before he had arrived.

Chuck's lips thinned at the woman's gesture. With a little bit of Bass charm, he was sure he could sway the woman's opinion.

"She has a photoshoot today, does she not?"

Beady, bright blue eyes peeked over the rims of her glasses, a hint of agitation clouded the orbs. "Sir, I'm afraid your name isn't on the roster. You can't see Miss Waldorf."

Chuck sighed heavily. "I'm simply here to see Miss Waldorf and wish her luck, along with a measly lunch helping," he explained, lifting up the brown paper bag, as if it would explain his pestering presence. Then, his other hand placed a green bill atop the desk. He leaned downward, meeting her eyes with amusement.

"I'm sure we can come to _some_ sort of arrangement."

The secretary's eyes darted from the bill he had offered her, back to the eyes that looked on with slight enjoyment. Her fingers curled over the worn paper.

She was a New Yorker, after all. New Yorker before high-soceity woman, she supposed.

"Sparkling or bottled water?"

Chuck grinned.

A little bit of Bass charm, and a whole lot of money.

"I believe a room number will be far more helpful, ma'am."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The enthusiastic lady led Chuck through a hallway of doors, ushering in the proper direction and leaving Chuck to continue the way. He stopped at the room number she had given him, taking a heavy breath. 1812.

**PHOTOSHOOT IN PROGRESS**

**NO ENTRANCE**

And with that, he pushed the door open.

The first thing he noticed were the lights.

Numerous lights were scattered across the room. Bright beams of light clouded the area, expertly held by long poles to overlook the room. A crimson, blood-red carpet had been laid against the floor, with many fans running quietly to overcome the stifling heat. An intricately carved bed was situated in the middle of the room, surrounded by the lights that pointed in that general direction. Black silken sheets were elegantly placed upon the bed, with dark screens hanging around the bed to shroud that particular area in darkness. As he dropped the bag beside him and tugged his leather gloves off, his eyes were drawn to the domed ceiling above him. There was no presence in the room, and the only sound was the gentle humming of the fans as they gave a cooling sensation in the brightly lit room.

He had first heard about the impending photo shoot last night, during their delicious dinner in the intricately decorated room at the Italian restaurant. During their meal of white wine chicken and steamed potatoes, Blair had told him of her photo shoot with the renowned photographer, Rafael Ramos. Ramos was a Spanish photographer especially known for working with some high-end models in South and Central America. It took months to merely get an appointment with the man, and the models that he did employ were usually sent out of the room with tear-stained cheeks and black mascara trails pouring down their skin. The man had a tendency for perfection in all of his pictures, and found it helpful to point out the imperfections in every model that came his way. However, history had dictated that every model that did survive a Ramos photo session and were called once again to work with the man found far more success in their modeling careers. Once a model had worked with Ramos, they were given far more credibility and respect than they could have ever imagined. The man was cruel and certainly brutal, but no intelligent person could deny the superiority of his portraits, nor the bright future that awaited any model that went through his path unscathed.

Even after he had continually assured her of her talent, he could sense that even that was not enough to appease the Waldorf heiress. Landing a photographer like Rafael Ramos, she explained, would be incredibly opportunistic for her mother's company. Eleanor had consistently reminded Blair of the value in having a perfected photo shoot with Ramos; nothing could seem wrong or improper in his eyes, and she was to do exactly as the man dictated to her. She, her smile seemed lessened when he had complimented her talent, as if she wasn't aware of the natural beauty she sported. She had thanked him for his reassurance, but even then, he could tell that it did not _fully_ implement her confidence in herself.

So, here he was, to prove his utmost devotion and belief in her.

"Chuck?"

His head turned to the sound of his name, and his mouth immediately went dry at the sight.

There stood Blair, an effortless beauty, with a curious and somewhat amused expression on her face.

He was stunned into silence.

She wore a Grecian styled dress, a strapless bodice with a ruched bust line complimenting her slim form. A wide band at the empire waist was stunningly covered in exquisite beaded accents, with draping fabric cascades outlining her petite body. The fabric was the darkest of black chiffon, giving her an aura of a fleeting goddess in his midst as the material seemed to flow against her body. The dark black of the dress contrasted incredibly with the porcelain color of her skin, making her skin nearly _glow_ against the heavy dark fabric. Her dark curls were pinned to the side, tossed elegantly in perfected wisps of silk, exposing a bare shoulder and neck that almost _begged_ for contact. Her eyes were outlined in a white shadow, the dark chocolate of her orbs popping out against the ashen lining of her eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

His heart was pounding angrily against his chest, so rapidly that he was sure she could see the organ nearly leap out in response. He licked his lips in an effort to bring some moisture back into his body, as his body was craving some sort of water after the sight it had just been met with.

Would his heart just stop _pounding_ already?

"Lunch," he rasped in response, willing to bring some control back into his voice, as he held the brown bag upward for the second time, as if it would explain his undeclared presence. "I brought you some lunch."

Blair smiled warmly at the response. Never before had a boyfriend ever visited a photo shoot without notice, and never before had she been informally treated to a packed lunch by anyone in her entire life. "Lunch? For me?"

Chuck merely nodded, focusing his entire energy on regaining the strength he had lost in his muscles. He strode over to her, dropping the bag beside him, and grasping her hands in his own, holding on to them tenderly, desperate for contact. "How has the shoot been?"

Blair's eyes lessened in their intensity, and her smile disappeared. She looked downward for a moment, finally looking up, a hint of sadness and disappointment showcased through her features. She was attempting to hide her diminished state, but even Chuck could sense her uneasiness. "He hasn't said anything yet. That's a good thing, I suppose. He hasn't found anything to insult yet."

His lips moved to rest against her forehead, noting the warming contact he had initiated. "It certainly looks _dazzling_ from my angle."

She lifted her head upward, her eyes directly colliding with his. "You really think so?"

He licked his lips, eyes boring darkly into hers. "You are a _goddess, _Blair."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Never before had a man looked at her so intensely, his eyes only seeking her own, his words spoken with such truth and adamacy. Once again, she found herself in awe of his stunning features, the sharp angles of his face reminding her of the Roman statues she had so admired as a child. How had a man so incredibly handsome sauntered into her life with so much _ease_?

Slowly, his breathing gradually grew shallow, his eyes shutting as he pressed his forehead against hers in an intensely intimate gesture. Her eyes drooped shut with a sigh, their hands still tightly locked as the world around them seemed to shift into silence. She was only aware of the rhythmic breathing of the man before her, of the circles his fingers drew against her palms in a soft manner, of the warmth of his breath surrounding her every sensation.

"Please tell me that the shoot is over," he murmured, interrupting the stunning silence they had entered. She grinned at the rasped voice, a smile forming on her face as she kept her eyes shut, in an effort to re-enter that strange world where they were the _sole_ inhabitants.

"One more set of photos, Chuck," she responded, to which he groaned softly. A chuckle emitted from her lips at the restraint he was attempting to maintain, and her eyes revealed their color, enthralled at the conflicted emotions of the man who had stolen her dreams.

A dark, burly man entered the room from one of the adjacent doors, a following of jittery companions trailing after him loyally. The two immediately pulled away from each other in reluctance, in an attempt to bring some cordiality into their encounter.

Chuck studied the man who had entered the scene with widened eyes. A greasy mop of black curls rested atop his head, along with a shabby beard plastered to his chin. He wore a dirtied white T-shirt, along with faded black jeans and worn brown sandals, a complex-looking camera hanging loosely from his neck, his dark eyes showing apathy. The creature standing before him claimed to work with the most beautiful women in the world, yet he did not maintain the aura of the most talented photographer in the world. In fact, Chuck would have guessed that the shabby man before her was simply part of the _crew_.

Chuck turned to Blair, amusement shining in his eyes. "I'll be waiting for you."

Blair smiled warmly, pressing her lips against his cheek in a fleeting flutter of butterfly wings, pulling away quickly and stepping over to the bed that lay in the center of the room.

Chuck found a spare seat by the many lights, resting against it to fulfill his promise to Blair. Blair, the ever faithful model, lifted slightly on the bed, laying back against the silken sheets and turning her head slightly to meet Chuck's gaze. The dark color of the sheets below her and the dress she wore, combined with the paler look of her skin, made him nearly stride over and show her _exactly _how much her current position was enticing him.

The aids that had walked in with Ramos hurried over to the vixen. The crowd hovered over her form, fixing tendrils of fallen curls to perfection, adding more ashen lining to her eyes, coordinating the chiffon material of her dress to expose the perfect amount of skin. The night before, Blair explained the shoot as a perfume ad, showcasing an "indulging of desire". For that reason, Chuck assumed, the perfect amount of skin had to be revealed to please the ever-judging Ramos, who was currently alternating between flipping sheets of paper and adjusting the lens on his camera.

When the crowd of companions pulled away abruptly at Ramos's barking command, Blair turned to him, her eyes sparkling, before blowing a kiss in his direction. He returned the tender action, to which she smiled in elation, the ashen lining of her eyes making her appear like a fallen goddess.

However, before Ramos began taking shots of the beautiful temptress before him, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, bare-chested young man entered the room. The model looked barely twenty, yet was heavily built, the muscles of his arms bursting against the skin, his tight stomach clenching as he strode over to the bed.

And, to Chuck's shock, the man placed himself above Blair's form.

His fists tightened and curled unconsciously as Ramos began shooting the two atop the sheets of the bed. Ramos would continually point out orders for the creature to place his hands on a certain area, to look in a certain direction, to loom closer at a specific angle for the anxious photographer. Ramos worked with quick diligence, not saying a word, simply snapping shots of the two at different angles and positions. The creature, as Chuck described, however, did not seem to understand the difference between a working environment and pure advances. His thumb was continually carressing the bare skin at her thigh, and one time, his lips had moved tentatively close to her ear.

But Blair did not say a word. Instead, she merely followed the commands of Ramos, moving in the direction he told her. But Chuck had gotten to know Blair all too well, and the woman was simply _shaking _under the man's forward gestures. If he hadn't known how completely important this photoshoot was to Blair, Chuck would have strode over to the man and shown him exactly what a forward gesture would entail. However, he focused all of his energy in remaining in the seat, ignoring the throbbing need he had to pummel the man senseless.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of snapping pictures, Ramos pulled away, and a bell sounded in the room. The man reluctantly pulled away from Blair, murmuring words in her ear. When a few moments passed, the man looked angered and embarrassed, stalking away with disappointment at the response Blair had given him, to which Chuck assumed couldn't have been as forward as his earlier advances. He found himself smiling with glee. He lit a cigarette and brought the stick to his lips, inhaling the deep taste of the tobacco.

The aids began to clean up the equipment, and Ramos began to flip through the photos in the camera, his form quietly standing in the corner of the room.

The lit cigarette dangling from his lips, Chuck walked over to Blair. She had stretched lazily against the sheets, her arms reaching out in a catlike gesture, her eyes drifting shut.

"Was the male model _really _necessary?"

A smile stretched across her lips. Still keeping her eyes shut, her arms reached out for him.

And he heeded her command. He braced his arms around her form, leaning over her petite body, his lips a mere inch away from her forehead, the smoke from the cigarette hanging from his lips curling around their forms. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, initiating her first intimate gesture with him. "Are we feeling a bit jealous, Chuck?"

A delicious grin formed on his face. "I only wanted to _strangle _the man."

Her eyes revealed their dark color, and she laughed with amusement, the intoxicating noise permeating the tense room around them. Behind them, Ramos continued to flicker through the pictures on his camera.

But unbeknowst to them, his eyes were shifting from the screen on his device to the duo on the bed.

"Don't worry," she murmured. "I sent him on his way after he tried a few moves."

His lips moved to rest against her ear, lightly tracing the delicate organ, a touch so effortless that she nearly groaned with desire. "Good."

His easy response vibrated against her ear, and she shut her eyes in response, attempting to control the rapid breathing that had overcame her. Never before had a simple touch brought so much heat to her body. This man had inspired so many feelings in her; ones of longing. Of passion. Of romance.

And most of all, of desire.

"Kiss me, Chuck."

Even with her eyes shut, she could sense the tense feeling that had overwhelmed him. Her words had been spoken in a whisper, but she was sure he had heard her desperate request. It wasn't like this with other men; usually, a kiss came at the end of the first date, and it never seemed to surprise her in intensity, like the women of the movies who would fall desperately in love with that one enticing suitor. But her recent experience with Chuck had certainly crossed the lines of normalcy. She frantically _wanted _to feel his lips pressed upon against her own, to _feel_ how this man would take her. She yearned for his fingertips to press harshly against the skin at her thighs, to feel his lips trace an entire trail across her body, to tangle her fingers in the dark locks he so magnificently sported.

She wanted him; _all_ of him, all that he had to offer.

However, instead of fulfilling her most desperate desire, he brought his forehead to rest against hers for the third time that day.

"I don't think I'll be able to stop, Blair."

She stared up at him, biting at the corner of her full bottom lip. "Then don't stop."

She would _never _think of herself as this reckless woman! All of her life, her events had been planned out to the utmost extent, and even today, her daily schedule was neatly organized and fulfilled. Blair Waldorf was a woman who lived on the organized cordialities of her life; in fact, she thrived on them. But with Chuck, life seemed to get a bit more hectic. He brought out a side of her she never knew could exist; a passionate, vibrant woman who could entice any man that came her way.

But she only wanted _one_ man. And currently, that one target was looming over her, his eyes nearly black with desire as he took in her petite body pressed up against the sheets below him. She nearly gasped at the intensity of the color, amazed that the caramel color that she had seen in her dreams could shift so quickly to the dark night sky he had shown her last night.

He licked his lips in preparation, breath stilling as he took in the unique scent that was Blair Waldorf, his lips a mere breath away from her own. An enticing, warm scent of vanilla sugar seemed to cling to her form, a fragrance he had encountered even within the heated environment of the shower. She had bewitched him, body and soul, and he nearly wept at the warmth he would encounter whenever in her presence. Never before had a woman ever had such a profound effect on him; it amazed him that a simple combination of chocolate curls and doe-eyed innocence could make him feel the vibrant sensations of pulsating heat.

_Snap._

Before he could gloriously settle his lips against hers in a climatic dance, their heads shot together in unison at the sound of a pesky camera near them.

There stood Ramos, his eyes shining, his lips stretched wide, as he looked on at the two forms atop the bed, gracing the world with his voice.

"Magnificent, Miss Blair."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

So, what did you think? I hadn't planned on ending the chapter that early, but it seemed like the perfect place to stop after I'd written it. Trust me, there will be more on this modeling shoot, so I hope you're interested to see where THAT is going :)

Please let me know what you thought. It really is what keeps me going. That's what made me continue on the last chapter after my failed computer meltdown; without those reviews, I highly doubt this chapter would have been let out.

Thanks once again for reading! Have a great weekend :)


	17. Chapter 17: Misty Eyes

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to all who reviewed last chapter! I'm very sorry this chapter was a bit late, but finals week has been mentally draining me. My last exam will be next Thursday, and then I'm free for the summer, so updates will hopefully be far more frequent till about June. I'll be sure to let you guys know what's going to happen during that time, but until then, I am incredibly excited with writing the story. Your reviews have really lifted my spirits, especially considering I've been without a personal computer for about two weeks now, and it's a bit therapeutic, actually :) Anyways, enjoy the chapter and leave a thought :)))

**Chapter 17: Misty Eyes**

_"She held my hand,_

_And kissed my lips,_

_She begged me, to help her feel,_

_And I said_

_I can make you feel it."_

_Home Video, "I Can Make You Feel It"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

A collection of equally stunned expressions stared back at Ramos with a shocking clarity, as the many aids kept their gazes locked on the man looming over the two figures atop the bed, who seemed to have frozen to their spots. Chuck and Blair's expressions were of similarly astonished level; a moment of heavy silence filled the room after Ramos had spoken for the first time in the session. He had remained quiet throughout the shoot, kneeling and moving with camera in place as he maintained a mute aura, but he had finally graced the room with two simple words as the crew had been cleaning up the area. Blair's eyes darted rapidly from the device held in Ramos's hands to Chuck's surprised glance, noting his incredulous expression.

His body was still pressed heavily against hers, his hand had pulled away from the gentle caress at her thighs, and the warming sensation of his breath against her cheek had cruelly departed.

Finally, she lifted her body upward, effectively pushing Chuck away from her petite form, with a strained reluctance, in an attempt to bring some cordiality into their questionable position.

But most of all, she found that the heat that had instantly surrounded her frame left her as Chuck's body pulled away from her own. He too knew the scandalous image they were portraying to a professional photographer of esteemed position; he had immediately complied with the gentle pushing her palms had provided against his chest, moving a few inches away from the bed and standing abruptly, throat clearing and hands diving into the pockets of his trousers.

And a frigid sensation instantly overcame her.

"Absolutely _magnífico_, Miss Blair!" Ramos exclaimed with delighted glee, his eyes widened to an extreme extent as he nearly seemed to be shaking with excitement. Blair pushed herself closer to the center of the sheets and tugged the falling material of her bodice upward, unable to fully comprehend the scene that had just taken place as her legs curled underneath her. She desperately needed a minute to recollect herself; the dizzying sensation Chuck had imparted upon her extremely accepting form had made her body feel loose and light in the sweltering heat.

Her chest was damp with a glowing perspiration, her breathing was labored and uncontrolled, her muscles had loosened and slackened in intensity, and her heart was slowly beginning to return to a welcoming pace in an effort to bring back some clarity.

Chuck's lips had been _deathly_ nearing her own, his eyes hungrily locked with her dazed chocolate orbs. His fingertips had been pressing lightly into the skin at her upper thighs, his warm breath fanning her cheek as he loomed ever so seductively over her body.

With each strenuous breath she had taken under his body, she felt the soft cotton of his shirt rub deliciously against her exposed chest, the lingering smoke of his cigarette curling before her sight, the melting color of his caramel eyes dragging her deeper and deeper into a never-ending, and _completely_ satisfying, current.

If it hadn't been for the sound of a certain camera click, she would have finally had the _glorious_ sensation of relenting release.

Chuck ran a free hand through his hair, cautiously swiping the loose tendrils across his forehead in an orderly style. Haughtily fixing the wool coat he wore, his mind instantaneously went back to the scene at the bed. His fingertips had been stroking the bare skin at her thigh, and the unique vanilla scent that was Blair Waldorf had invaded his senses until all he could smell was the lingering perfume of sweetened vanilla. Vaguely, he recalled her fingers tentatively stroking the hair at the back of his neck, bringing him to his own intoxicating state of mind.

Christ, he had held a slightly quivering Blair Waldorf in his arms mere moments ago.

And it had felt _heavenly_.

Ramos, however, did not take such an interruption with such wooziness that both Chuck and Blair were currently maintaining. Their heavy, aided breaths went unnoticed by the professional with the dark device slung around his neck.

Instead, he barked out orders at the numerous aids, forcing them to drop their rapid cleaning and usher out of the room in a slightly disorderly fashion. Tangles of cords and plugs were left lying on the ground, and the harsh lights that had been turned off a few moments ago glared their intensifying brightness onto the sheets of the intricate bed, leaving a sole three occupants in the room.

Ramos adjusted the dials on his camera in a hurried fashion, finally striding over to Chuck with a somewhat anticipating aura as he eyed him quickly. "Who dressed you, sir?"

Chuck, who had grown mute at the man's abrupt photography session and his questionable inquiry, opened his mouth to speak, yet found no voice to fulfill that command. He was still recovering from the overload of sensations he had just undergone with a certain doe-eyed brunette. Gulping soundly, he turned to Blair, quiet and mouth hanging open slightly, for help.

It was their first gaze since their legs had been so teasingly tangled.

"He's not a model, sir," Blair explained in a quick response, gesturing to the clothing Chuck wore, and turning her head back to the elated photographer. "He's just a… _friend_."

Friend? Blair groaned inwardly at her foolish words. What had just almost transpired between them were not the common actions between _friends_! Friends saw movies, ate lunch, went to _book clubs_ together!

Friends most certainly did not share a secluded moment atop a marble balcony overlooking New York City. Friends did not leave lingering hands at the smalls of naked backs.

And friends did not create tousled hair and blush-stained cheeks with the most _effortless_ of touches.

"A friend, eh?" Ramos spoke with amusement, one brow rising at her simple explanation as he eyed her extremely flushed form. "A _boyfriend_, si?"

An anxious smile made its way to Blair's features. She laughed nervously, in an effort to bring some humor into the situation, which would seem unlikely, _given_ the situation.

She really had brought this on herself, hadn't she?

Before she could explain a nearly embarrassing situation, a recognizably heavy voice filled the air.

"I was simply here to offer Miss Waldorf some much-needed support," Chuck exclaimed with a stunning sense of control. His voice lacked a shaking tone, a stumbled word, a whispered reply.

The man spoke as if hadn't just experienced one of the most _sexual_ moments in his life!

Or maybe it had simply been one of the most sexual encounters of _her _life, Blair reasoned. The man was intricately handsome; he had probably been with a multitude of European models in his lifetime.

A heat of jealousy quickly overcame her.

"She has told me that you're one of the toughest guys in the industry."

A confident smile overwhelmed Ramos as he took the observation as a compliment. He turned to Blair, scanned his eyes over her still quivering body, and finally spoke.

"You were like a dead flower with that other man, Blair."

His words were short, direct, and _cruelly_ to the point. He did not hesitate in his speech, and Blair winced slightly at the man's punching words. She could blame her lack of potential on the earlier model's frighteningly forward advances, but even Ramos would deem such an excuse as irrelevant, and possibly ridiculous. She really had tried, following Ramos's orders with perfection, turning at the correct angles, being still and unmoving as the shots were taken. But even that hadn't been enough; a simple and unplanned moment with Chuck left her more heated than she had ever felt in her life.

"But…" he murmured, turning back to Chuck with a raised brow, his eyes scanning the man's features. "With this man right here, you came _alive_."

Blair gulped at Ramos's fiery passion.

"I was watching your interaction, and I've never seen such an intense look shared between two people. It's as if you held the goal of the photoshoot: a desire that is forbidden, as they say."

Blair turned her eyes from the exuberant Ramos to Chuck. She found that he had been watching her the entire time, his dark eyes pointed and unrelenting on her form. She felt a heated flush course through her body, and a tender smile pulled at the corners of her lips as the two held the insistent gaze.

"If it would be okay, I would like keep this shot of you two."

It was Blair's voice that interrupted the silence that followed.

"Only if Chuck's okay with it."

Chuck nodded slowly. He hadn't wanted to embarrass Blair in any sort of way; Ramos's request would be entirely up to her. This was her photo shoot, and he would make sure that she would dictate the events of her professional life. Never wanting to overstep his boundaries, he had waited for Blair to respond, and her acquiescence made his heart soar.

"For you, anything."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Not many cities could claim a beautiful night life. Some areas quieted down when the sun lowered and the moon took its place. The shops shut down, people retreated into their homes, and the streets grew bare and silenced when the night overcame the sky. Others nearly ceased to exist when the clock struck eight o'clock, refusing to be swayed by the seduction of a night siren.

But not New York City. _Never_ New York City. Chuck would continually be fascinated by the spirit that never seemed to depart from the streets of New York. Even in the latest hours of the night, when specks of stars dotted the darkness above them, and the city nearly _begged_ for a moment of silence, the people were unrelenting, always moving, always dancing, always _living_. It reminded him a bit of Paris, but never in such an intensifying degree. Strangely enough, he found himself enjoying the utter character of the buildings, of the sights, of the people.

One certain person seemed to stand out from all the rest.

A character of porcelain skin, dark curls, and endless leg continually covered by black tights.

Chuck pressed his forehead against the cooled glass of the balcony door of his hotel room, willing the frosted sensation to halt his traitorous thoughts as he looked out over the activity of the street below him. Bringing a crystal glass to his lips, he gulped down a helpful helping of scotch, nearly crying out in glee as the liquid trailed a burning sensation down the muscles of his throat.

After an exuberant Ramos had virtually skipped out of the session, Chuck and Blair had been left in the room. He had extended a planned dinner invitation to her, already formulating the plot of his well-planned evening with her.

A French styled dinner atop a secluded balcony overlooking the glamour of her hometown, with endless champagne and drinks to accompany their night out. A short trip to a private movie theater that would play all of her favorite Audrey Hepburn movies, the two being the sole inhabitants in the theater.

Under the dark that the movie theater provided.

However, those thoughts had immediately vanished as Blair declined his dinner invitation with a defeated sigh. Serena had gotten to her first; the two had been planning a girls' night out since the end of the previous week, and with the success of Ramos's photo shoot, Serena had been even more excited to continue with the planned festivities. Chuck hadn't had the heart to diminish Serena's excitement, especially since she had been so helpful in his entire plot, so he had plastered a fake smile and encouraged Blair to indulge in some well-deserved fun.

Even if it meant a night alone, with scotch and momentary images of nude skin as his only accompany.

He had returned to his hotel room, loosened his tie, and began a deserved indulging of the amber drink. His form had lazily collapsed against the cleaned sheets of his bed, and he had awoken a few hours later to an obscure night sky and the familiar sounds of taxicab horns.

Now, his shirt loose on his body and hair slightly tousled from his earlier nap, he was staring out into the night life of New York City, wondering where Blair was off to at the moment.

If anyone was graced with a fleeing glance of her swaying hips.

A soft puckering of her ruby red lips.

Chocolate orbs gazed in a certain direction.

He shut his eyes tightly, palms drenched with sweat, groaning silently as forbidden images surfaced in his mind. Shaking fingers dove into the pockets of his trousers and pulled out a worn cigarette, dragging the stick between his lips in a rushed frenzy. He attempted to strike the lighter to light, but his trembling and agitated fingers couldn't seem to will the device to light the end of the stick.

Spitting out the useless cigarette from between his teeth, he began to pace the length of the room, hands alternating between resting at his sides and running through his hair. No matter what distraction he tried to pose, haunted images of Blair continued to run through his mind.

Her head tilted backward, dark curls falling like an obscure curtain down her back, her pearled neck stretching and exposed to his hungry gaze as his fingers continued their tender trek across her collarbone.

Back lain effortlessly across the black sheets, head angled in his direction, arms outstretched, leg bent to expose more of the fiery flesh.

As if the vixen wasn't appealing _enough_.

A soft vibrating noise crackled against the dresser to interrupt his numbing thoughts. Bringing the device to his ear, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a somewhat inaudible 'hello', eyes squeezed shut and willing to end the impending conversation.

"Chucky! How are ya, love?"

His eyes immediately shot open at the familiar voice he heard.

The soft, sultry voice on the other end was most certainly that of a brown-eyed temptress; of that he was sure.

But the high-toned voice he heard wasn't one that a usual Blair Waldorf maintained. Her words didn't seem to be hers as well. The pounding music that was heard blasting on the other line didn't seem all too familiar to Chuck.

Which only meant one thing.

Blair Waldorf was tremendously, unquestionably, and most positively _not herself_.

"Blair? Where are you?"

He heard her incessant giggling and a few muttered words to the man beside her, followed by her squeaky voice.

"Well, according to this _lovely_ gentleman over here, we are at the _lovely_ Victrola!"

Chuck frowned at the slurred voice. This wasn't like Blair; the woman was in total control in everything that she did, never wasting her time on the incommodity of any element of surprise or shock. His time of earlier observation dictated the Waldorf heiress as being extremely programmed and familiar with her daily activities.

Strangely enough, he wasn't becoming too fond of the Blair Waldorf on the other end of the line.

His next words were laced with a hint of worry as he attempted to speak with a sense of control. "Where's Serena?"

Even through the phone, a string of rapid whispering followed his question. He heard Blair's voice beginning to respond, followed by a quick click. He glanced at the bright screen of his phone in irritation.

**_Call Ended._**

Shutting the useless device in a swift gesture, Chuck tugged his earlier wool coat onto his form and strode out of his hotel room, slamming the door behind him, fully aware of the gnawing feeling deep within his stomach.

There was something completely _wrong_ about the entire situation, and he wasn't about to just let it be.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

As expected, Victrola was hosting one of the larger parties of the week that same night. The entire block was packed with taxicabs and vehicles honking their way through the streets as New Yorkers hopped into their interior. As Chuck's limo pulled up to the flashy building, a couple of teenagers strolled out of the doorway, their steps unbalanced as one girl turned to her male companion, smiled widely, and proceeded to empty the entire contents of her stomach on his shoes. Chuck grimaced at the site, barely managing to get a word out to Stan under the roaring music blasting at the site. Instructing the driver to remain standing at the door of the club, he strode inside. His eyes quickly adjusted to the rapidly changing neon lights of the club as he entered the building.

Serena's party had been _far_ more respectable than the debauchery of tonight's event.

Countless women of endless leg and lengthened hair were scattered throughout the nightclub, a few of their male counterparts sprinkled into the environment as well. One woman curled her fingers around Chuck's wrist, baring her pearly straightened teeth, to which he pulled away in obvious disgust at the woman's brazen actions. Another girl, a figure who looked barely fifteen and short blonde curls styled in eternal hairspray, was dancing provocatively atop the bar as the many men below her cheered on in excitement and encouragement, fingers grasping at the naked skin of her ankles.

The club was drenched in bottles of vodka, barely dressed women, and a rhythmic beating of techno music.

His eyes scanned the scenery before him, searching for a head of chocolate curls or a familiar pair of brown eyes, maybe a fleeting glance of porcelain skin. He wandered the club for nearly twenty minutes, catching glimpses of a brunette, only to be mistaken when the face was revealed. A few moments earlier, he had caught sight of a petite brunette leaving the club, and so convinced that she was Blair, had rushed out after her, calling a familiar name, fingers grasping at her arm when she had turned around in confusion. He had apologized profusely for the error, and the woman had been more than willing to accept his apology, but he had still felt like a dull idiot at the ferocity with which he had called her.

After what seemed like months of searching, Chuck decided to go for a different mean of completion. Heading over to the bar owner and offering a mean of generous payment, he described Blair's features to the foreign man, who had simply pointed to the obscure stairway near the opposite side of the bar.

Chuck had never noticed it before; if the man hadn't pointed it out, he would have never known that the bar housed another level above the usual festivities it provided.

His hands ran through the dust-ridden handrails of the staircase as he ascended, scowling in repulsion at the utter vulgarity of his predicament. The upper level of the club was far quieter than its lower counterpart. The music did not extend to the space, so the rapid steps of his shoes against the dirtied, hard wood floor were the only audible sound for a few feet. The hallway was lined with wooded doors on either side, stretching to about twenty doors in total. Heart pounding, because he was starting to feel an engulfing feeling at the pit of his stomach, he tried every door he came across, and almost all of them were locked.

Finally, when the pounding in his heart was practically _unbearable_, and his palms were nearly drenched in sweat, and he seemed to be seething with heat, he flung open a doorway, and the pounding of his heart stilled at the sight before him.

Terror rushed through his veins as he saw Blair pull angrily at the ropes tied at her wrists, holding her to the headboard of a bed, which was furnished by a worn, beat mattress. Her head was thrashing from side to side, dark curls matted at the glistening sheen at her forehead, eyes shut and tightened with tears streaming down at the relentless tugging of the ropes restraining her freedom, a strip of duct tape plastered to the perfect lips he had so worshipped.

Her captor was looming over her, legs compressing down on her own, hands harshly pressing at the skin of her hips in an effort to maliciously still her pulling form.

Pants hanging at the knees, a straining erection visible even in the dark, paint-chipped room.

The only way he saw the muscles of her thighs shaking with fear was the end of her dress having been bunched up at the waist, the straps of her attire gone, exposing more of her flesh to the eager creature before her.

And Chuck saw _red_.

He dove at the man, who had turned at the intruder with glazed eyes, with an inhumane cry, tossing the form standing over her with a power he never thought he had.

When his eyes had widened at the shocked eyes of EJ that stared back at him, his fist went flying, delivering punch after punch of unbelievable intensity.

"You _bastard_!" he roared, continuing to pummel the man senseless. "Who the _fuck _do you think you are?!"

Even amidst the disturbing cries of EJ begging to be released, and the sound of his fist meeting the skin of EJ's arrogant jaw, and the pounding sensation of blood coursing through his veins, he still heard the smallest sound of a quiet whimper echo in the room.

His bloodied knuckles released EJ's limp form, and he darted over to the figure atop the dirtied, bloodied mattress. Cupping her cheeks gently, his fingers proceeded to undo the ties at her wrists, wincing and tightening his eyes at the vague purple marks fading into her perfected skin. His lips whispered words of continuous endearment into her ear as she shivered slightly, moaning and crying a bit when he pulled the edge of her dress downward to hide her quivering thighs. Her eyes hadn't revealed the chocolate color he was seeing in his dreams as he tugged off his jacket and willed her to stand up on shaky legs. Placing the warm coat on her shaking shoulders, he lifted her up and cradled her body into his arms, her nose nuzzling into the skin between his neck and shoulder as he took quick and determined steps out of the room, a whisper of his name settling on her lips.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Thankfully, the hotel did not inquire regarding Chuck's late guest. The late-night attendees sported widened eyes at the blood-stained knuckles of the man carrying a shivering woman into the lobby, but no questions had been asked, and only simple nods had been provided with Chuck's request of certain supplies being sent up to his room in the morning.

Blair had remained quiet throughout the entire ride over to the Benjamin. When he had moved to rest her body against the leather seat beside him in his limousine, Blair had muttered a cry of refusal, instead tightening her hold around Chuck's neck and bringing her still-shaking body closer to his own. Chuck hadn't the heart to refuse her, so he had nodded to Stan in acceptance as the vehicle made its way to Chuck's hotel.

Stan had caught glimpses of the two in his rear-view mirror, and his eyes had somewhat watered at the duo behind him. Even in the craze of a New York night, Stan could still hear Chuck's gentle whisperings against Blair's hair, and his eyes had caught the soothing ministrations Chuck's thumb was providing on the covered expanse of Blair's back.

Christ, he was a no-good sap.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Chuck was still holding Blair's body tight to his own in the elevator. The late-night hour ensured that most of the elders would be in their hotel rooms for the night, giving him a peace of mind in the dubious gazes he would receive from curious individuals.

Blair yawned in his arms, her arms holding on to Chuck even more firmly. "You smell like scotch."

She whispered her words against his neck as he eyed the lighted numbers of the elevator. "Really?"

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded slightly, muttering unintelligible words. Chuck reasoned that her drug (or alcohol) related stupor was keeping her from reliving the events of the night. Perfect; he didn't think he could deal with a shaking Blair Waldorf when his own hands yearned to _strangle_ the life out of the creature who called himself a classy European.

Even more disgusting was the prominent bulge in the man's pants when Chuck had found the two together.

It repulsed him to think that a man could get sexually aroused under such a horrid and sickening manner.

"Where are we going, Chuck?" Her question held a childlike innocence.

The elevator doors parted open at his floor. He walked over to his door, struggling a bit to pull the key out of his trousers with Blair in his arms, and slipped the card into the gold handle. "You're going to stay with me tonight."

She sighed dreamily, furrowing her nose deeper into his neck. "That sounds nice."

He nodded at her acceptance. Stepping carefully into the room, he laid her gently against his dark sheets, tugging the comforter to place atop her. She sighed in contentment, burying her nose into the soft material of his pillow, eyes drooping shut like a sleepy kitten.

He heard a knock against his door, and he cupped her cheeks warmly, bringing his face closer to hers. "There's going to be a doctor in here, Blair. Is that all right?"

She nodded slowly, face leaning into his head as her eyes were kept shut. He hated to leave such an intimate gesture, but he knew that Blair's immediate health was far more important than his offering of a momentary comfort.

One of the more prestigious guests at the Benjamin was a well-known doctor of esteemed value, and Chuck had asked the hotel's management to contact the man for a personal favor. Leaving the room to ensure Blair's privacy, Chuck paced the length of the hotel's aisle way, desperately yearning for a familiar burn of scotch to quench the deepening pain in his stomach.

After a few minutes of agonized anticipation, the elderly, balding man of short stature emerged from the room, emergency kit held close beside him.

"It seems she was given a common, and less serious, date rape drug this earlier evening. Combined with the effects of a _slight_ over consumption in alcohol, her symptoms will be those of an intense hangover in the morning," the doctor explained, beady eyes peering over his gold-rimmed spectacles.

"So it's nothing too serious, I hope?"

The man nodded slowly, tilting his glasses upward to meet Chuck's gaze more directly. "She should be fine during the night, but she may be a bit disoriented in the morning. Some weak tea should help with that symptom."

After thanking the man abundantly for his time and effort, the doctor proceeded to his own room, leaving Chuck to his thoughts.

He peered into the room, ensuring she was proper, because he was _still _a gentleman, before entering with silenced steps. The white button-down shirt he had laid atop his lamppost the night before was missing until he realized that she had dropped his coat and the scrapped material of her dress beside the bed, wrapping her limp body in the material of his shirt.

He stepped closer to her, kneeling beside her to face her form. Her breathing was regular and even, and her normally flawless curls hung wilted around her. She looked to be in complete and total peace, and his fingers fought the temptation to brush a loose tendril that had fallen against her cheek.

Her lips parted, and she opened her eyes, revealing their haze and glassy appearance.

"Stay."

He gulped soundly, a warm smile overcoming him. "I'll be right here, Blair."

When he began to lift himself up off his knees, her hand jutted out, tenderly grasping at his arm. He stared at the tight hold and returned his eyes back to hers.

"Please."

Without speaking, he knew exactly what she meant. She looked pleadingly at him, eyes locked with his own. Even within the misty fog of her chocolate orbs, he saw the desperate fear she hid in them, as if she was beginning to recall the more horrid events of her night. She needed human comfort, any semblance of assurance and stability.

And who would he be to deny her such a pledge?

Nodding slowly, he joined her atop the bed, careful to place a few distance between them. When she refused the far proximity and edged closer to him, her hand resting at the surface of his beating chest, he shut his eyes firmly. The dizzying smell of her hair against his cheek was driving him insane; he knew his role was to be the friend she needed, but somehow, he couldn't seem to move as her legs purposefully tangled with his, her head resting against his shoulder. His breathing became hard and labored as he tried to bring some control into his aching body.

Suddenly, his eyes popped open to stare back into the depths of her dark eyes. She had moved like liquid fire, straddling his body, her hands bracing her weight on his shoulders. The obscure curls fell around her face in a messy manner, and the few buttons of his shirt weren't done, revealing to all tantalizing bits of porcelain flesh.

She had caught her bottom lip between her teeth, an act of apprehension clouding in her hazed orbs.

And Chuck let out a tiny hiss at the sight.

His hands, which had fisted the sheets below him, fell wary at her touch as she trailed her treacherous fingers down his arms, grasping at the sweated palms. Softly, and with a tenderness that he nearly _wept_ with sadness, she placed his hands atop her bared thighs, finally cupping his cheeks in a lovingly intimate gesture.

He made an effort to lift himself up, before things got way out of control, and before he did something he would forever regret.

But she proved her strength was far greater than he had imagined. She held him down, her hips pressing more deeply into his lower body to keep him still, hands cupping his cheeks far more forcefully.

"Blair," he rasped, gulping soundly, shutting his eyes. "You're not yourself tonight. Don't do something you're going to regret later."

Her delicious chuckle flooded the room.

"Let me make that decision, Chuck."

Then, she propelled her body forward, mouth meeting the heated skin between his neck and shoulder. At such closeness, the vanilla shampoo of her hair invaded his senses, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as his breathing grew heavy and uncontrolled.

"Touch me, Chuck. _Touch_ _me_."

He licked his lips, beginning to feel a familiar tightening in his pants as she continued to grind her lithe form into his lower body. Her tongue jutted out continually, licking a sensual path against his neck, and an unfaithful groan escaped his lips.

His hands moved of their own volition, affectionately tracing the skin at her thighs. She moaned deliciously, tossing her head back, the dark hair falling down her back like a tempting curtain. He felt himself grow impossibly harder as he dug his fingers into the skin, and she gasped at the contact, shoving her face into his shoulder as her fingers tightened their hold on his shoulders.

How very, very easy would it be, to claim her, right _here_, at that exact moment. It would be the perfect way to ensure his hold on her. As soon as he brought her to the brink of intensity, she would be willing to share anything and _all_ he would desire at a simple inquiry.

Wasn't that his job? Wasn't he to ensnare this woman, make her his, discover all he could that could destroy, and leave the remaining pieces scattered against the loved streets of New York City?

She was offering it to him, was she not?

Who would he be to deny her release, as well as claiming her in the process?

She was succumbing to his fiery touch, gasping, licking, grinding against him as he brought her even higher against the walls of insanity. Her hazed eyes were rolling backwards.

And suddenly, he remembered the mist he had encountered moments earlier.

With that, his hands flew from her thighs and pushed at her shoulders quickly. He nearly jumped off the bed, pacing a few feet before the sheets, running his wetted hands thickly through his sweat-touched hair.

Breathing unsteady, eyes shut tightly, heart pounding restlessly against his chest.

"No."

He had rasped the word in the heat of his desire, but when he turned to glance at her, clear tears flooded her eyes. She moved away quickly, tugging the shirt more tightly to her body, bottom lip quivering, as her eyes met his.

"You don't want me?'

Her words were a mere whisper, spoken with such fright, such sadness, that he abandoned all rational thought and strode over to her, grasping at her hands as he forced her misty eyes to meet desire-induced ones.

"I want you _so_ badly," he murmured, bringing his lips to rest against her forehead. "So, so _very_ badly."

She stared at him as he continued.

"And you'll _never_ know how much."

Her eyes began to focus on his, and he began to think she was starting to pull herself out of her drug-induced stupor. But the mist quickly returned, and she shook her head slightly, pulling away from his gaze and resting her body against the sheets.

"I'm very tired," she muttered sadly, edging the comforter tighter against her body. "So very tired."

He nodded slowly, wrapping her tightly in the comforter as her eyes drifted shut, and she sighed in contentment. When she was still and peaceful, and completely unaware of him, his fingers, with a shaking ferocity, managed to light the cigarette he so desperately craved.

And so he lit up, smoke curling around him, fingers smelling of ash as he kneeled beside her and watched her deep slumber.

_"She held my hand,_

_And kissed my lips,_

_She begged me, to help her feel,_

_And I said_

_I can make you feel it."_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Once again, thanks so much for reading. An update should be available by the end of next week.

I threw the beginning quote in the end there so the connection could be a bit more clear.

As always, reviews make this entire journey worth it. Please leave a thought, and have a great week :)


	18. Chapter 18: Reddening Impression

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **You guys continue to astound me with your reviews. They are truly what keep me going, coming home exhausted and pulling out the document. Thanks to all who alerted, favorited, etc. I can't even begin to explain how much that helps in quicker updates :))) Enjoy, and leave a thought, as always.

**Chapter 18: Reddening Impression**

_"I don't want to call my friends_

_For they might wake me from this dream_

_And I can't leave this bed_

_Risk forgetting all that's been."_

_Dido, "Here With Me"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The cigarette had longed since vanished in a stick of burned ash. Chuck had remained kneeling beside Blair moments after he had denied her so reluctantly. His eyes had trailed over the gentle curve of her cheekbones, the fond pout of ruby lips, the dark lashes elegantly curving in one of the most stunning portrayals he had ever seen.

Never before had the seemingly _simple_ act of slumber enticed him in such a way, or gave the sleeper an aura of a most innocent character. When she was awake, she gave off a persona of curiosity, a woman daring to vanquish the beliefs implanted upon her. But when sleeping, she looked far younger and _certainly_ more enticing.

Her quiet breathing and the calm rise and fall of her chest relaxed him as she slept in an effortless manner. Once, he had brushed a stray tendril of chocolate from her face, but had immediately pulled away, fingers shaking slightly at the burn of fire he had encountered.

What _was _it about this woman that made him forget the terms of sanity?

Rising slightly, after he was certain that she could stand a few moments alone for a much-needed drink, Chuck filled a delicate glass of scotch, suddenly feeling very overheated in the darkened room. He slid the black marble of the balcony door and stepped outside, careful to let the heavy curtains cover the exposed entrance so that Blair wouldn't be discomforted by the sudden chill of a New York winter.

Breathing deeply, Chuck leaned against the balcony railing. In a slight daze, he swirled the amber in his drink, watching the city below him sparkle with lights and activity. His eyes deftly caught sight of a couple strolling down the sidewalk, the man's arm slung protectively over the woman's shoulders as their gentle laughter permeated the air around him.

How easy it was for them to _love_.

A hint of jealousy soared through his spine at the simplicity of their walk, at the easy nature of the man's arm over the woman's shoulders, at the freedom of the woman's laugh.

They probably didn't have to worry about loyalty, and vendettas, and chocolate curls that invaded a man's soul.

He had been so, so _very_ close. Blair had been eternally willing to offer herself to him, her supple body responding ever so eagerly to her fiery seduction. His eyes dimly fluttered shut as he recalled her tongue tracing a hot flame against his neck, the silken skin below his fingertips nearly driving him mad with desire.

He shook his head slightly, willing himself to pull out of the daze he had so easily entered. She had been so adamant, so cruel in her temptation. When he had attempted to pull away the first time, she had dug her hips into his, effectively trapping him in a cocoon of her most eager warmth.

It would have been so _simple_ to claim her.

Enter her so swiftly and powerfully that she would be _crying out_ any request he would make of her.

Along with her drugged state, he was sure that any of his questions would be answered so truthfully, essentially helping him discover what he couldn't find within the lighted confines of the New York library.

One misstep, one mistake she could reveal to him.

That was all he needed.

A high-end heiress living in the Upper East Side surely would have some secret in her past; a secret so close and desperate to her heart.

Everyone had a hidden part of their past.

She was no different; living within the confines of a place that _survived_ on social gossip, even the most well-hidden kind, would make her so easily susceptible to scandal.

He just needed that one bit of information, and he could leave New York forever.

An ominous feeling traitorously lit in his heart at his last fleeting thought.

Even with the newest information he had discovered earlier in the library, loyalty to his family was crucial. It couldn't, and most certainly _wouldn't_, be bargained with. His father had dedicated so much to his schooling, and had awarded him with the reigns of his family's legacy for many years now.

Even though the man had been nearly... nonexistent during his childhood, he had done the best under the circumstance of his wife's death.

After all, what man could so easily look at a child that reminded him of a most beautiful past?

_Affection is desirable_, as his father had once told him during their few discussions together. _But loyalty_, he had exclaimed with such fervor.

_Loyalty is absolutely indispensable._

Blair had given him the reigns to the assignment so freely, yet instead, he had shut his eyes tightly at her temptations and pulled away so _easily_.

At that moment, when she was so prepared, he had seen the misty eyes that had stared back up at him.

And then, he had known that he couldn't have been able to rob her so easily.

The effects of the drug had impaired her so well that she would never remember their encounter by the next morning.

He would have finally accomplished, or at least aided, the completion of his assignment.

But his conscience had gotten the best of him, making him pull away at her with such speed and strength.

Vaguely, he realized the purpose.

He couldn't do that to her.

After all, wouldn't that have made him somewhat… _equal_ to the vile creature that had dealt with Blair so cruelly atop the dirtied mattress?

What would make him different than that disgusting man?

Bile immediately rose to his throat at the demeaning thought.

And that was what had made him pull away so reluctantly and quickly from her form. She would never know his actions, but still, he was sure that he could sleep far better at night if he had denied her drug-induced state.

And then, he spoke a quiet promise to himself.

The touches and flirtations would be a part of his seduction, a keen way to win the path to her most _protected_ heart. A kiss (his heart traitorously leapt at the thought) would be permitted.

But the touches would be as far as he would go.

Bedding the woman was a dirtied act, even for him.

So, at that moment, standing before the lights of New York City, Chuck Bass resolved _never_ to sleep with Blair Waldorf.

His assignment could be completed _without_ the addition of silken sheets.

Feeling a gentle vibration against his pants pocket, Chuck pulled the device out, studying the unknown number on the screen for a few moments.

His thumb hovered over the green button to answer the call.

And yet, the call went ignored.

Chuck shut his eyes and returned the phone back to its place.

His father would be furious; that had been Bart's one request before he had left to the states.

His ears perked up suddenly at the sound of a quiet rustling of his sheets. Even with the shrill sounds of the horns and clatter of New York passerbys, that one effortless sound made its presence known.

He inched towards the curtains, his hand falling against the rustling crimson material softly as he slowly pushed back the gliding color. He made no movement as he watched the most welcome stranger atop his bed.

She had situated herself atop his sheets, the fibers crumpled around her bare legs. The material of his dress shirt was loose and light on her form, and _far_ too large for her petite body, exposing much of her nude shoulder as it hung limply to the side. The combination of the darkened room and her porcelain skin against his white shirt gave her the image of an ethereal goddess, a ghostly apparition for those sleepless souls below the cut moon.

A _forbidden _ethereal goddess, it seemed.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

One leg stretched out from under her, she turned in his direction, eyes heavy and lidded. The normal chocolate color that overcame her orbs was nowhere to be seen; instead, the whites of her eyes peeked out from beneath hooded lids, the dark lashes fluttering over her cheekbones.

He gulped soundly, watching her smile lazily in the night room. Her eyes still vaguely delirious, she gestured towards him, her arms outstretched as more of his shirt revealed the tantalizing flesh it so _greedily_ covered.

Placing the glass beside him, he walked towards her, slowly but surely, in case she had any more reservations about his nearness. He knew it was dangerous; she was drunk and most certainly not herself under the drugged haze. The dark color of her eyes wasn't visible under her mist, and she was nearly _naked_ on his silken sheets.

Yet, he found himself nearing her form, silently shaking, his feet taking him under their will. He stood before her as she lifted her head upwards to meet him, her eyes still half-shut.

She could feel him; even with her eyes remaining closed, that devilishly lethargic smile was still plastered on her perfected features.

Even with the mist that her mind was currently in, she could sense his reluctant presence.

Her arms reached upwards, delicate fingers meeting the open collar of his dress shirt. Her fingers roamed over the material, confining outwards to the skin at his neck, searching and searching for the warmth she desperately desird. He took a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut at the effortless gesture.

She pulled him downward, and he relented to her gentle urging as she laid him on his back, her form hovering over his.

Damning himself to hell for his own _masochism_, Chuck's thoughts were rampant before he heard the angelic voice he had grown to adore.

"Always, always drinking," she murmured with a sigh, as if a child repeating an age-old nursery rhyme. "What are you running from, Chuck?"

Her fingers had begun running over his face, tracing the rough terrain of his features. The tight set of his jaw, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the smooth eyebrows he so easily sported. When her fingers ran softly over his lips, he gasped quietly, eyes popping open to meet her glazed orbs.

She was stepping into _dangerous _territory.

"I used to run, too," she explained with a bit more force, her words slightly losing the delirious state he had thought her to be in. "Always, always running."

He thought nothing of his assignment as he watched her glazed eyes gaze over him.

His next words were spoken without thought.

"What were you running from, Blair?"

She was drifting out of the glazy state to a more lucid one, her eyes battling for control. He heard her throaty chuckle, the deep vibrations of her quiet laughter echoing in the room.

As if the question amused her.

Suddenly, her laughter deadened, leaving the room silent for a few moments.

Then, she spoke.

"I know what you're probably thinking," she replied quietly, hazed eyes returning to meet his. "She's young, pretty. She's got the whole _world_ at her feet."

She spoke with an air of quiet reflection, her fingers tracing the delicate curve of his lips, her misty eyes strangely locked on his own.

And then, just as quickly as her eyes had brightened up, her eyes lost the luster he had seen earlier.

And she looked at him with an expression of complete and utter sadness.

"What could she possibly know about misery?"

Her fingers had suddenly stilled their ministrations over his lips.

Vaguely, he realized that the adored digits were slowly beginning to tremble.

She began to pull away from him, eyes widening a bit in slight anxiety as her now-shuddering hand pulled away from him completely.

As if the realization truly frightened her.

Then, with an urgency he never thought could claim him, he acted on pure instinct. His hand darted out to cup hers, resting the heated palm against his cheek.

And then, even with the misty eyes he had grown to worship, he could have sworn she saw him.

_Really_ saw him under the vapor a repulsive being had decided to enforce upon her.

"I'd never think that."

His hand still lain over hers, she sighed happily, resting her head beside his atop a shared pillow. The earlier confession seemingly flew from her mind.

She gestured the hand that held hers ever so personally to her stomach, shifting the material of his shirt so that his palm lay beneath the bothersome material. His hand resting against her womb, she turned to him with a smile, eyes once again shut under the hallucinating mist.

"I like you, Chuck."

Her simple, childish expression brought a much-deserved smile to his face. He chuckled slightly, delighting in the feel of her legs tangling in his, the dig of her nose into his neck, the soft dancing of her fingers over the heated palm atop her belly. He knew this was entirely inappropriate; he hadn't known her long enough to have her so _warmly_ attached to his most eager body.

But, as she sighed tiredly against his skin, like a small kitten merely exhausted of the day's events, he found himself dismissing that entire notion.

As long as he didn't sleep with her, the conditions of his silent promise would be met, right?

Tugging her a bit tighter to him, he buried himself in the curls of temptation. Chin resting atop her head, he took a deep whiff, the nightly hour finally making his body sag with fatigue.

After all, the refreshing scent of vanilla was far more pleasing than the burning taste of familiar amber.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

A small smile made its way to Blair's lips. The warm beams of bright sunshine overwhelmed her, awaking her from one of the most comfortable sleeps she had experienced. Eyes still shut, and head strangely feeling a bit light and airy, she made a move to pull herself out of bed.

An arm prevented her desire.

Her eyes popped open, and a horrified expression quickly overcame her. Shaking slightly, she peered downward and a muted gasp escaped her lips as she looked down at her choice of bed wear.

A white shirt, mostly resembling a _man's_ form of attire, was covering her limp body.

Her legs were bare, and she nearly fainted at the realization that she wasn't wearing any undergarments.

Gulping soundly, Blair shut her eyes and counted slowly in her head, a familiar technique she had learned in college to calm herself. However, when she opened one eye and peered downward to find that unrelenting arm still clutching her body securely, her heart began to hammer loudly against her chest.

Dreadfully enough, when she tried to recall how she had ended up _naked_ in an unknown stranger's bed, she found that the events of the previous evening were lost in her memory. A feeling of unexplainable trepidation seeped into her core as her thoughts went rampant, trying to conjure a logical explanation for her most frightening predicament.

Chuck snuggled tighter against Blair, digging his nose into the crook between her neck and her shoulder. One leg was tangled in her nude legs, and he nearly cursed the unrelenting sunshine that had brought him to a vague sense of reality.

His eyes snapped open when he felt a trembling Blair Waldorf in his arms.

"Blair…" he spoke quietly, attempting to bring some clarity back into the situation with a soothing voice and a most willing explanation.

And then, when she turned to meet his gaze, and he saw the _shocked_ chocolate orbs that looked up at him in fright, he began to pull himself away, unwilling to have her stare up at him with such anxiety.

God in heaven, those damn caramel eyes had greeted her once again.

She moved quicker; she shot away from him, untangling her legs from his and pushing at his chest, eyes wide and mouth gaping open.

However, she didn't calculate the width of his bed.

"Watch out –"

But his caution went unanswered as she slid from the silken sheets and toppled onto the ground in a loud _thump_ and a most unladylike curse.

Moving towards the end of the bed, Chuck quickly helped an unsteady Blair onto her feet. When she realized the cause of her aid, she snapped her arm away from him, and ignoring the blistering pounding in her head, she glared at her supposed _savior_.

"Why the _hell_ did I wake up in bed with you?!"

Her throat felt parched and scratchy, and her eyes were attempting to focus on the man before her.

Before he could explain, a petite, balding man knocked on the door of his hotel room, holding up a silver tray. "Sir? Your requested items for the morning?"

Chuck thanked the aid, whose eyes had widened at the sight of a nearly naked woman frowning fiercely as Chuck took the adored items from the tray.

The balding man nearly sprinted from the scene before him, prepared to share such an amusing story with his jaded colleagues.

Even gossip was a form of entertainment for the workers at the Benjamin.

Chuck pressed the tea leaves between his fingers, dropping the contents into a strange mixture of a greenish color. Rapidly preparing a traditional herbed tea that was known for its quick hangover cure (one of the many perks of Parisian night life), Chuck handed the tea cup to Blair, whose fists had unconsciously clenched at her sides. "You need to drink this."

Her angered eyes shot to the now-black mixture in the tea cup.

_Classical music floated throughout the bar, a reputable place for the Upper East Side heiresses of the area. The restaurant was styled in an antique Japanese expression, with shaded lamps and wooden furniture scattered throughout the room. The place had become popular in the past year as many Hollywood actresses were photographed within the confines of the beautifully decorated restaurant._

_Blair sighed heavily, twirling the martini glass with a dejected expression. Serena was over an hour late, and many of the male patrons of the bar had attempted to capture her attention, in disgusting ways at that. Blair had rebutted their advances quickly and had remained waiting for her best friend to celebrate her well-deserved success with Ramos._

_A small smile found its way to her lips as she recalled the photo shoot earlier that day. _

_She could still sense the complete warmth Chuck's body had seeped into her own, the smoldering caramel that had stared deeply into her chocolate eyes, the firm grasp of his palm on her bared thigh._

_Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" interrupted her thoughts. She pulled out her cellular phone and quickly answered Serena's call._

_"Blair! Please don't tell me you left already."_

_Blair looked downward, eyeing the short midnight black dress and the sharp heels of her Michael Kors originals. _

_"Just hopping out of the shower, S."_

_Serena sighed happily and continued to speak. "My mom caught up with me just as I was about to leave and threw some files of the Donahue account at me. She wants them done by tomorrow."_

_Blair pursed her lips._

_"I think I'm going to be here all night. Raincheck, B?"_

_Blair smiled sadly. "Of course, S." It wasn't Serena's fault; even Blair was guilty of these later phone calls with excuses of extended photo shoots. She couldn't very well make a horrid scene. _

_Then, her voice grew a bit more cheerful as a fleeting thought overcame her. "Maybe I'll call Chuck and see what he's doing tonight."_

_She heard Serena's adored convincement ("I'm so happy for you, B!"), and the two made plans for the following evening._

_Chuck definitely deserved to celebrate. Without him, Ramos would never have gotten that prize-worthy shot. _

_He had single-handedly helped her win over one of the toughest photographers in the industry, had he not?_

_Playfully ignoring the gleeful sensation in her heart, she left a few bills for her drink and stood up, prepared to make a surprise appearance at Chuck's hotel and… properly thank him for his most welcome aid. _

_She was feeling incredibly powerful that night._

_When she made a move to walk, her legs felt a bit limp. Bringing a hand upward to rest against her forehead, her eyes caught sight of a dark-haired figure walking towards her with perfected strides as her world finally fell into complete darkness._

Blair's horrified eyes shot from the offered tea glass to the concerned ones of Chuck Bass. He had watched her stare at the mixture in confusion.

Was she finally remembering the events of last night?

"You _drugged_ me?"

Chuck's brows furrowed at her simple prodding. "What?"

She continued to stare at him.

And then, she saw forbidden images of herself lying below the creature before her.

His heated palms gently rising up her naked thighs, a prominent erection straining through his slacks.

"You _bastard_," she seethed between clenched teeth, nails digging into her skin as she made furious fists. "You disgusting, hateful _bastard_."

Ignoring the flaccid feeling her legs, she pushed past him and grabbed the first item of clothing she could find: a pair of silk red pajama pants in the corner of the room.

"Blair!" he called out, hands tightening at her upper arms. "Blair, what the _hell_ are you talking about?!"

"A date rape drug, huh?!" she roared, tightening the loose pants on her form. They still hung floppily, low on her hips, but they would be decent for the quick getaway. She couldn't very well leave the hotel in his _shirt_, now could she? "You didn't think I would _remember_, did you?"

His eyes widened at her words.

And the horrible implications of her accusation felt like a thousand bricks being thrown in his face.

She couldn't… really think…?

"Wait a minute," he explained, his stiff hold on her arms slowly loosening. "You think… You think _I_ tried to rape you?"

She began to shake uncontrollably, tugging herself away from his rigid grasp. "Don't talk to me, and don't call me," she murmured, clear tears forming in her beautified eyes. "I'll have your clothes sent back to you."

Grabbing her bag atop the television set, she blindly brushed the water from her eyes, refusing to have him see her so broken, so destroyed.

She was a complete and unrelenting _idiot. _

He reached for her, attempting to turn her around, so that he could explain, say _anything_, make her listen to the real account of that horrific night.

He had to explain. She couldn't and _wouldn't _leave thinking these horrid thoughts.

"Blair, listen. You have to listen to m-"

An earsplitting crack filled the room as she swiftly turned around, her palm quickly colliding with his cheek with a hidden strength.

The reddening impression of her hand, along with the widened eyes that stared back at her so sadly, made her speak with a quivering voice.

"I really thought…" she spoke, bottom lip trembling, clear tears falling freely, damn him. "I really thought you were different."

Even with the piercing sensation on his cheek, he grabbed at her, palms wrapping at her neck in a strangely intimate gesture, considering the circumstance.

He wasn't about to let her leave so freely.

"You…" he spoke quietly, in an attempt to calm her. "You don't remember the truth, Blair. Please, let me explain."

Another flash of her efforts to tug her restrained hands free.

"No!" she screamed in defiance, pulling away from him and stopping a few feet away. Breathing heavily, she brushed the traitorous tears that had befallen her porcelain features, speaking with far more clarity than she ever thought she could muster.

"No."

She stared at him for a few moments.

Her dark curls were free and mad around her saddened features, her dark mascara hovering around her tear-struck eyes. He reached out for her, arms blindly stretching forward to touch her, a desire for her to realize the truth in one simple caress.

How could she think... _he _had done that when he had denied her drug-induced stupor? Sat by her bedside and watched her calming sleep overtake her?

Protect her with the heat of his warmth holding her tightly to him throughout the night?

She moved backwards on shaking legs before swiftly turning around and leaving the hotel room.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The cold wintry air bit at Blair's skin, the thin material of the despised shirt not enough for protection against a New York chill.

Blair had tugged the shirt closer around her form, keeping her head downwards as she sauntered through the hotel lobby with as much dignity as she could muster. The tears had long since receded, leaving visible tracks of water on her cheeks that she furiously wiped away. Her friends would be shocked to see her current state; dressed in a man's clothes, hair mussed and ruined, mascara trails beginning their trek down her porcelain features.

Ignoring the confused looks of the patrons around her (who the hell did they think they were, staring at her so _unabashedly_?), she stepped outside the hotel room and shivered with the wintry air. Peering down at the sharp heels that would lead her back to her apartment, Blair sighed heavily. Her feet would be blistered and raw by the time she reached her home, and she couldn't run the risk of having any of her friends see her current state of undress.

However, snagging a taxi proved much more difficult than she had anticipated. After moments of frustrated calls and curses, Blair dug her face into her hands.

Could the day get any _worse_?

A flash of Chuck's expression as she had left the room filled her mind.

She groaned. Of course it could.

"Miss Waldorf?"

Blair looked up, the dark mascara of her eyes staining the palms of her hands. She recognized the larger man as Chuck's driver; his kindly sapphire eyes were staring down at her in preoccupation.

"You look a bit… flustered," Stan exclaimed with a delightful smile. Blair found a small smile etching on her face; his cheery persona was doing wonders for her depressed state.

"Do you need a ride?"

Blair pursed her lips, glancing back at the towering building of the Benjamin behind her.

Her eyes narrowed.

She turned back to Stan with a smile. "That would be greatly appreciated."

Stan grinned warmly, helping the woman up from her seat at the dirty sidewalk. His brows had furrowed a bit at her choice of clothing, vaguely recalling the silk pajama pants she wore in his superior's closet. However, he merely shrugged, opening the limo door and aiding the shivering woman into the vehicle.

After all, Chuck's orders had been simple.

_Don't frighten her_, he had spoken through his phone moments earlier, whilst Stan had been enjoying an American hotdog in the early afternoon. _She can't be walking around like that in this weather. Get her back to her home._

And Stan, the ever loyal portly driver, found himself wondering about the current state of his superior's mind.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

As soon as Blair had stepped into her apartment, her shower had called out to her. Shedding the simple clothing she wore and angrily kicking the material to the corner of her room, she stepped into the blistering shower, enjoying the heated environment on her preoccupied mind.

However, even within the confines of the steamy area, her tears came once again. She sobbed uncontrollaby, her arms hugging her quivering body under the shower spray. She had tried to pour some shampoo into her hair, but the shaking of her hands proved far greater than her own strength, and she dropped the bottle with a frustrated cry.

Her eyes caught sight of vague purple marks around her wrists.

_"Come on, baby," she heard a voice say. "Open your eyes for me."_

_Blair shook her head from side to side, eyes tight and tears streaming downward as she felt unfamiliar hands trail up her thighs. When the hands stilled, and she thought that the creature before her finally heard her frustrated cries, the man rapidly tugged the silk of her dark dress upward, exposing her lower area to his hazed eyes. _

_She began to hyperventilate. _

_Eyes still shut tight, she heard the man's angered demands to keep her mouth shut._

_Her eyes shot open as she felt a disgusting hardness press against her inner thighs._

_And ghosted green eyes met hers._

Blair immediately stilled. Water streaming down her trembling body, she leaned backwards against the tiled wall, a hint of perfumed vanilla overcoming the shower.

_"Please, EJ," she heard herself say, her throat scratchy from the unrelenting screaming she had just done. "Don't do this."_

_EJ's eyes softened a bit. She wasn't sure if it was the haze he was battling, or a sense of compassion he was experiencing. She flinched when his fingers trailed down her cheek, a saddened expression on his face. _

_He looked at her with such sorrow. _

_"Thank you," she murmured with a sigh._

_With his freed fingers, a cut piece of duct tape landed on her mouth. _

_Her horrified eyes stared up at him as he freed himself from his belt buckle._

"No," Blair murmured to herself, palms brushing back her wetted hair.

"No..."

_Tugging with as much power as she could at the restrains at her hands, her eyes clouded with water as EJ's pants fell to his knees. She attempted to lift herself up, to offer any sort of escape to her body. But his strength was far greater than her own; he pushed down at her, effectively trapping her in a cage of digusting denial._

_Then, when her hands went limp, and her mind went light and airy, the pressure atop her lifted, and a cool breeze trailed up her exposed thighs._

_She heard some shouts and roars, but she merely whimpered at the lack of weight atop her._

_Fluttering butterfly wings trailed over her cheeks and her wrists, and the tight hold of the restrains were freed. When those same wings trailed over her thighs, she cried a bit at the soft gesture, sighing when the wings gently eased the material of her dress downward to hide her shaking thighs. _

_And when she was lifted into a pair of warm arms, her nose dug into the familiar scent of scotch at a patch of skin, and whisper of a name settled on her lips like butterfly wings._

_"Chuck."_

The pounding sensation of the pulsating water on Blair's back ended the flashback.

Rapidly turning the dial to end the shower, Blair tugged on a toweled robe and rushed over to her phone, punching in a number of familiar digits, as she was about to do that night before.

When she heard his slighted gasp on the other line, she finally spoke.

"Chuck?"

She heard his trembling voice. "Blair? Are you all right?"

Clear tears overwhelmed her eyes at his tender prodding.

"I think... I think I remember."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

So what do you think? It was a bit lengthened, but CB just write themselves, as always :)

Thanks for reading! As always, leave a thought :))) I've outlined this story, and it's going to have 30+ chapters in it, so we've got quite a long way to go :)

And the season finale was... stunning! Chuck's smile at the end (I don't think we've ever seen a _true _Chuck Bass smile, mind you), the kiss, the teasing, the smiling, the colors, the dialogue... *sighs* :)

Best CB episode, of course.


	19. Chapter 19: Wretchedly Exquisite Vanilla

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Once again, and I don't think I'll ever say this enough, your reviews continue to amaze me. I have been so lucky to find such a willing audience to such a lengthy adventure. Thanks so much! Also, I failed to mention in the last chapter a review that was left some time ago. This reviewer showed a bit of fear that CB might potentially be related due to Bart and Eleanor's alliance. As much as I do come from writing some fiction pieces for soaps, I can assure all you faithful readers that CB are **NOT** related in any way, shape, or form. Their connection is far too tender and far too interesting to simply place within the confines of missing siblings. So, I do hope that has assured some of you :) Once again, please leave a thought, and enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 19: Wretchedly Exquisite Vanilla**

_"Amore mio,_

_Si nun ce stess'o mare e tu,_

_Nun ce stesse manch'io,_

_Amore mio,_

_L'amore esiste quanno nuje_

_Stame vicino a Dio_

_Amore."_

_Andrea Bocelli, "O Mare E Tu"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

One hundred and eighty minutes.

Ten thousand, eight hundred seconds, to the dot, and Chuck Bass stood before Blair Waldorf's door, heart hammering, blood pounding, palms sweating.

And a hint of anticipation clouding his core.

He had dressed in record time; never before had a hastily put-together outfit ever looked so dashing on the stunning man. A midnight black suit, matching the dark tint of his eyes, paired with a rose and magenta-swirled shaded tie, resting against a pristine white collar shirt. His shadowy locks, brushed ever so pleasingly to the side, gave him the persona of a pristine gentleman of old Hollywood, a man placed outside of his racy time period, but certainly thriving in the unknown setting with a devastatingly classy style enviable of his peers.

After Blair's sudden call moments after she had settled into the limousine (yes, Chuck had made sure Stan had escorted her through the concealed window by his balcony door, a place clearly hidden from her devastated eyes), the two had agreed to meet at her apartment at 6:00, three hours after they had been awoken ever so abruptly by the cruel rays of truthful sunshine streaming across the silken sheets.

And three hours after she had tossed him out of her life ever so easily, like a worn rag too exhausted to be of any fruitful use.

Though, Chuck could assume that her accusation did have some merit to it, no matter how much it tore at his heart at the brief realization. She had awoken, extremely unbalanced, he could honestly say, to find herself wrapped in _his_ shirt, his arm tossed ever so protectively over her abdomen, without an inch of undergarments beneath the material. And when he had provided her with the cure to her most ailing headache without a clear explanation of her predicament, in his _blinding_ desire to follow the doctor's orders of the previous night, her eyes had grown hazy and locked on the mixture, obviously experiencing a vague memory of her evening.

Yes, the conclusion had been faulty. He could still hear her words, her questionable prodding, swimming within the confines of his overactive mind.

When he had clutched at her arms, in a sense to _seep_ the truth into her from his touch, to make her _see_ the way his eyes locked so tenderly upon her own, she had recoiled and retorted with one of the harshest slaps he had ever received in his life.

Christ, he could still feel the _sting_ of her imprint, and if he looked closely, he could have _sworn_ he saw hints of spots of a bright pink shade against his cheek.

Yet, the most disheartening part of the whole accusation had been her eyes.

Her eyes had looked at him with such curiosity and a desire to mask the unknown before that night. Those deep chocolate orbs, sometimes lighting up to a shade of darkened caramel, sparkled when he had smiled at her ever so kindly during their first evening out. A time when she had chosen to ignore the hurt and pain countless men had imparted upon her and heed the call of a devilish suitor so _desperate_ to claim her heart.

But then, at that moment, when she had sadly declared that he was no different from any other man she had known (and God almighty, he wanted to _shake_ the truth into her, because those men were _bastards_ and had no right to still walk freely among the people of the world), those eyes were deadened and tired, filled with an overwhelming amount of sorrow that brought a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And yet, he couldn't turn away from such misery in the depths of her orbs.

The entire assignment, he was sure, had turned him into a dejected masochist, a man willing to catch a glimpse of the most saddening eyes in the world, eyes that would drive _any_ sane man to weep at her knees, clutching at her bare ankles, in hopes of the return of lighted chocolate eyes.

After the call, his hands, with a shaking ferocity, filled many glasses of scotch and replenished the liquid ever so easily. Glass after glass, the scotch eased the tension within his gut until he looked down at the weakening decanter with pursed lips. He had been reluctant to end the loving tirade with the adored amber, but the thought of showing up at Blair's apartment even _slightly_ drunk gave him the strength to hide the decanter and settle into an anxious pace across his hotel room, fingers held tight by his sides to refuse their relentless wandering at his locks.

He wanted to be completely and _utterly_ sober for this abrupt call to her apartment. A deep, bothersome pull in his bones told him that their encounter tonight would be different.

Climatic and poetic, perhaps.

Like the plot of any worthwhile movie; the rising intensity of the music right before the climatic reveal, the harsh strings of the violin being pulled as the protagonist encounters a deafening secret or a haughty affair.

He couldn't help but feel _fretful_ when imagining their meeting.

He had dismissed Stan for the evening, and unwilling to involve his ever so loyal driver for the intense night, had decided to walk the way to Blair's apartment. The wintry air of a place he was beginning to call home bit into his nerves, relaxing the tightened bundle between his shoulder blades and the perspiring portion of his forehead. A dark night sky had immediately settled in the city, releasing the shining lights and blaring horns of the adored night siren that was always heeded by New York City. His eyes had, once again, as if in a poetic gesture, caught sight of another devoted couple, their lips meeting in an intimate caress by a public fountain, as he had stood waiting for a light to permit his pedestrian walking.

Strangely enough, he couldn't lift his eyes away from this particular duo. There wasn't anything particularly special about the scene; in fact, if he had looked more closely at the portrayal, the sight of more adoring couples might have caught his wandering attention. The woman, whose dark curls weren't nearly as enticing as curled chocolate strands, looked up at the smirking man ever so lovingly, their gazes locked and unwilling to yield to the world. His palm was resting so calmly atop her thigh, and her hands had wrapped around the exposed neck of her lover.

There was something about that specific connection that had his heart actively beating, pulling him out of the supposed relaxation the New York winter had claimed over him. The encounter looked so natural, so _accepted_, that he found that his eyes couldn't be torn away from the endearing couple.

When the duo finally caught his unrelenting gaze and stared back at him in obvious suspicion, a characteristic of New Yorkers that he had grown to comprehend, he had understood the frightening implications of his act and continued on his way.

What couple would want a suited man, eyes dark and persistent, peering in on a most tender moment?

When the overwhelming building of Blair's apartment came into his view, the normal hammering of his heart turned into a loud drumming that made him nearly keel over in a queasy manner. A strange, fluttering sensation was beginning to overwhelm his upset stomach, and he realized that the simple _will_ for the fluttering to end meant absolutely nothing in terms of comfort. The woman had even altered the calming techniques he had used all his life, he thought grimly.

Sighing slightly, he inched forward towards the building until he found himself at the exact location where he had watched her slip out of her apartment with Serena a few weeks earlier, dark tights covering her endless legs as the two had strolled for a monotonous night out. Without delay, his mind immediately recalled how her gaze had met his, her brows furrowed and a confused look placed on her stunning features, as she had stared ever so unabashedly at the man hidden within the dark confines of a flashy vehicle.

Had she known then, that the mysterious man that had walked into her life would be the one who had watched her daily rituals for quite some time before their well-planned encounter? Would he have ever found Blair Waldorf if his father hadn't handed him the couture model shots she had so glamorously taken?

Could he have ever… _loved_ Blair Waldorf without the introduction of family vendettas and a father's desire to exact a most well-planned revenge against a heritable family?

Chuck shook his head slightly at the wandering thoughts. The amber of the scotch had surely gotten to his head right then; he was thinking _far_ too heavily into a future that just could not be. How fitting that his feet had placed him here, to the one place where the entire assignment had begun under the haze of a burning cigarette and a pair of perceptive eyes feasting on the glorified beauty of a Miss Blair Waldorf.

Once again, he found himself cursing the existence of porcelain skin and chocolate curls to distract himself from his assignment. He had been with countless brunettes, each name quickly forgotten by the next morning's most lovely shower. And _yet_, never before had simple curls ravaged through his mind, and never before had a woman of such pale skin enticed him ever so endlessly.

There was something about a pairing of chocolate curls and porcelain skin that had him grasping for any ties of logical sanity.

When he had glanced at his wristwatch and caught the time as being 5:50, nearly ten minutes before he was expected, he lounged outside the apartment complex, trembling fingers attempting to light a stick of cigarette. When the useless lighter, once again, refused to cooperate with the trembling limbs he was currently sporting, his nerves allowed him to question a younger gentleman beside with aid in lighting the end.

He refused to enter the apartment without a much needed calming effect.

The young boy, a child who looked no older than seventeen years old, looked at the exquisitely dressed man with the quivering hands in confusion.

"Sure, mister," he replied earnestly and fulfilled the man's most desperate request, bringing the open flame to the end of the stick. His cobalt eyes shot upward to meet the man's reaction.

Chuck breathed in the familiar taste of the tobacco, sighing in a most adored relief when the cigarette worked to ease the building tension in his neck. His eyes had drifted shut; focusing on the lovely taste of nicotine and the momentary release it was providing him, which required all available attention.

"You know, smoking is a horrible habit. It destroys your lungs and gives you nasty breath."

One eye peeked open at the boy's blatant opinion. He sighed heavily, taking another drag of the lit cigarette.

"It's a filthy pastime. Never pick it up."

The blue eyes of the boy sparkled in amusement, the apparent juxtaposition of the man's action inviting him to question even more thoroughly. "Then why are you doing it?"

Chuck shut his eyes once again, delving his attention and sensory input into the familiarity of the stick between his fingers.

_Inhale, taste, exhale._

The simplest of three commands, put together, to calm the wretched hammering of his heart, the endless pounding of his blood, the panicking sensation of his palms.

"A means to forget, my friend."

His main path of thought was to focus all of his attention on to the simple act of smoking, and _not_ on the anticipation of holding those curls in his hands, once again.

Or the silken sensation of endless leg beneath his fingertips.

Or the color of ashen skin against a midnight exterior.

A phantom image of the curve of Blair's back flashed through his mind.

Furious, Chuck tossed the useless cigarette to the ground, crushing the device with the toe of his leather shoe as haunted figures of Blair Waldorf invaded his conscience.

"Worked out real well, huh?"

Chuck glared at the smirking child in a light anger, running his hands through the dark locks atop his head in blatant exhaustion. "Apparently, not too well."

The boy nodded slowly, a means of understanding in his action as he spoke. "It's a woman, isn't it?"

Chuck didn't say a word, his eyes catching sight of the cobalt eyes of the young boy, hands snaking their way into the pockets of his trousers. Yet, that seemed to be enough for the younger gentleman, whose voice interrupted the momentary silence.

"Women shouldn't be all this trouble."

A hint of a cunning smirk found its way to Chuck's features, delight etched within his dark orbs.

Did this child also have persistent dreams of a certain girl's stunning features? Did a simple trait drive his mind _insane_ with longing? Did he find himself doing all and anything, unconsciously, to keep her safe, to keep her adored?

"You're absolutely right."

The younger boy smiled, walking over to the rusted bike perched against the building's exterior, his head turning to meet Chuck's amused gaze. His azure eyes caught sight of the smirking Chuck Bass as he left his sister's apartment complex and made his way to his mother's home, smiling the whole way through the snow-ridden sidewalks.

Chuck's eyes watched the boy's retreat, then finally shot to the wristwatch, glancing at the time.

6:00.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Blair's hand swiftly ran through the nonexistent creases of her outfit, her eyes scanning over her appearance through the full-length mirror in her bedroom, smiling confidently at the perfected choice of fashion. She hadn't called on Serena this time for aid in navigating through her closet; this time, a dress nearly called out to her from the highest shelves, and she had most eagerly heeded the call with an anxious response. The outfit fit her like a glove, and she found that she was most anxious for Chuck's imminent arrival.

Her earlier conversation with Chuck had been rapid and subtle; she had simply told him to meet her at her apartment at 6:00 that evening for a chance to clear up the misconceptions of that morning, after she had hinted to him that she had recalled a bit of the truth of the previous evening.

Blair's hands found their way into her perfected curls, running through the invisible strays of chestnut that had not curled properly. The entire accusation had been extremely embarrassing on her part. Since the call had ended, Blair had experienced more flashbacks of the time she had supposedly lost; a few of herself clutching Chuck as he had maneuvered her from the limousine to his hotel room. She had seen the tiny spectacles of a graying, aged man that had presumably been the hotel doctor. Another flashback of herself, which would explain her choice of outfit that morning, tossing the shortened dress to the carpet and exchanging the material for the warmth of Chuck's button-down shirt, overcame her moments after she had finished heating the locks of her hair.

And another, of herself running her fingertips over the divine features of Chuck, his dark eyes growing blacker with every stolen caress.

Blair's cheeks immediately stained a pinkish shade as she recalled more of the flashbacks. Her drug-induced state had won out over her logical self; the flashbacks proved that her entire role hadn't been completely… _innocent_. Another flush rapidly overcame her as she remembered how _insistent_ she had been for Chuck's approval. Grinding, licking, biting… Blair winced slightly at the memory. From the extremely _illustrative_ remembrances, she had certainly pulled out all the stops to convince the man to sleep with her.

And yet, he hadn't. Her mind continued to replay the vague memory of Chuck pushing up against her, his hands running through the sweat-soaked hair as he anxiously paced across the room.

_"No."_

That one simple word, a most powerful refusal, which had sent a hazed Blair nearly to tears, brought such fondness and affection for his character. Any other man…

Blair shuddered at the thought.

She had most certainly been given the proof of that little scholarly note.

Still, the man had refused to take advantage of her state. He had refused her, with what she assumed was a most difficult deed, as dictated by the furious trek of his feet against the hotel carpet and the rapid wandering of his fingers through his messed locks.

And she found her heart pounding even more profoundly against her chest at his most delicate decision.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Raising a slightly shaking finger to the doorbell, Chuck took a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes tightly before willing his finger to press against the protruding button. He took a few moments to calm himself, practicing a rhythmic breathing session that he had learned in his earlier business days before presenting a most rigorous project to the board. Licking his lips in anticipation, Chuck's eyes slowly revealed their color, and he concentrated all of his attention towards the pesky device beside the doorway as he pressed the contraption.

The door swung open, as if Blair had been standing beside the doorway, in anticipation of his arrival. The feeling of utter anxiety that had overcame his stomach quickly faded as he gazed ever so hungrily at her appearance. The silver dress lay over a midnight black corset, elegantly paired with a studded belt so that the dress hung limply over her form. She had added a jeweled headband to her pristine curls, along with a pair of black sheer stockings and black heels to complete the chic look.

The butterflies that had inhabited his abdomen fluttered away at the sight.

"Chuck," she breathed, in a somewhat breathless greeting, as she took sight of his perfected features. Chuck smiled in response, tugging his hands into the pockets of his trousers in a nonchalant aura.

"Blair."

His voice was rhythmic and tranquil, as if the name simply rolled off his tongue in a lovely melody, as if he had been _born_ to utter her name in such a seductively divine manner. Blair smiled at the voice, gesturing to the living room near the foyer and inviting Chuck inside.

Chuck nodded slowly, stepping into the apartment and taking sight of his surroundings. His memory instantly recalled him to the last time he had been standing in that exact same room, when he had been studying the frame of Blair and her mother with an amused brow before she had crept down the stairs and, quite _literally_, stolen his breath away with her delectable choice of an outfit. His lips grew into a smirk.

Would he ever have thought a few days later, he would be standing here again, prepared for what he assumed would be a climatic piece to the entire journey?

They swept into the living room, and Blair quickly excused herself for a few moments, leaving Chuck sitting quite so comfortably against a fair couch. His fingers ran ever so delicately over the cooled leather, tips vividly grasping at the tendrils of memory that he had left stained upon the smooth surface.

He saw fleeting images of the enticing gleam of Blair's stretched porcelain throat, the strap of her dress falling away to expose a nude shoulder, and the way the shade of her eyes had disappeared beneath her lids as his fingers had feathered over the stretched skin.

He gulped soundly at the onslaught of visions. He contemplated lighting a cigarette, for those devilish bundles of rigid nerves were quickly starting to flourish once again, but decided against it, in case Blair didn't enjoy the lingering scent of tobacco amidst the leather. His eyes took in the familiar surroundings of the living room, noting the painting they had discussed that night held up so pristinely against the wall.

This room had held, and _would_ hold much weight in the entire assignment.

His eyes darted to the foyer as he heard the sharp tapping of heels against a hard-wood floor, and his fingers stopped their delicate path. Blair had returned from the kitchen, carrying a silver tray of china teacups in her hands. Kneeling downwards, she offered the liquid to Chuck, and he naturally complied, feeling a bit silly with the miniscule bit of white china, decorated with a base of painted flowers, held ever so delicately between his fingers. Blair offered a shy smile, settling herself besides him after placing the tray atop the coffee table before them, her hands resting atop her lap. He took an aristocratic sip of the browning liquid, and instantaneously tasted a hint of vanilla within the heated mixture.

Or maybe it was the fleeting scent of body vanilla as she had settled beside him that he had sensed.

"Is the tea too warm?"

Chuck smirked once again at her words as the heat from the china warmed his nostrils. His eyes caught sight of her hands, wringing themselves against the defenseless material of her dress, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Setting the china cup atop the silver tray, he lifted his eyes to hers and finally spoke.

"I'm sure you didn't invite me here for some tea and casual conversation."

A smile etched across her features. She chuckled warmly, stilling the nervous ferocity of her hands and placing the palms flat against her thighs, in an effort to calm her raging nerves. "No, that's not why."

He remained silent.

He would allow her the chance to speak; she had called upon him, and not the other way around.

Slowly, her chocolate orbs held a lengthened gaze.

"I… remembered some things about last night."

The amusement in her voice departed, leaving her with a quieter tone as her eyes held his. He nodded slowly, a sign urging her to continue.

"Some things I wouldn't have wanted to remember."

Chuck licked his lips at the thought. His memory directly conjured up the image of Blair's body locked under the ferociously savage body of EJ, her wrists thrashing against the increasing pressure of the tight ropes holding her down, her legs attempting to free herself from the hold of the _monster_ above her. A consumable rage built up inside him, and his fists unconsciously clenched together, his teeth pressing tightly at the horrid memory of what _would_ have happened had he arrived a moment too late.

Blair immediately noted the tense locking of Chuck's jaw and the darkening of his eyes after she had spoken. Inching forward, her hands pressed against his chest, initiating some warmth to enter into his rigid body.

The touch felt eerily familiar and customary.

"Even after you pulled him off of me," she spoke, her voice halting a bit. "And I was so _willing_," she murmured, pressing herself closer to his body. "You pulled away."

She had whispered those last few words. Her palms rose upward, finally landing on his cheekbones and cupping them tenderly. The thin material of her slip pressed against his jacket, and her legs had curled underneath her, allowing her form to essentially hover over him.

"Why did you do that, Chuck?" She questioned him with a slightly slurring voice, words melding together into a honey-like mixture that had him drowning deliriously in the sticky mixture. "Why did you pull away?"

And he gulped at the sight. Her eyes carried the darkest intensity he had ever seen in them.

Their color, which usually resembled a tempting milk chocolate, now grew to become nearly _black_ with desire, and they held the direct gaze with his dark orbs, unrelenting to break the intimate contact. The heat from her palms was seeping into his body so that it warmed every inch of his form, leaving him with a warming sensation deep within his abdomen. Her lips looked so inviting, so _alluring _that his own nearly shook in the desire to capture them in a fiery dance.

He couldn't handle this.

No way in _hell_ did he agree to this masochism.

Her eyes held such pride, such loyalty, and a growing hint of yearning that he found that it was _necessary_, for his own valued sanity, to pull away from her immediately, to shed some clarity into his mind and find a flimsy decanter and a most willing whore to lose himself for days to come.

But, he found that his feet had been cemented to the carpet below him, and his limbs had been locked in position, so that he was incapable of movement, or, quite possibly, any rational thought.

All he could do was stare directly into the ghostly eyes of Blair Waldorf.

"Blair…" he breathed, his response a throated whisper at the image before him. "I…"

She pressed a finger atop his lips, urging his silence as she shushed the breathless explanation that was sure to follow. He heeded the unspoken command, reveling in the sensation of her finger tracing the shape of his lips, just as she had done the earlier night.

But this time, she was lucid and logical, and the mist that had overwhelmed the shade of her orbs was nonexistent within the confines of the fond moment.

Her lips slightly parted, she moved forward, resting her lips against the smooth skin of his upper cheek. She could have _sworn_ a twinge of pink still rested atop his skin, from the vicious imprint her palm had left upon his features.

She had been so _eager,_ so _desperate_ to mar the perfected features he so innocently sported that her hand had left a stinging impression, a mark of relentless imperfection against his wretchedly divine soul.

Guilt immediately overcame her at the false accusation, and she pressed her lips more firmly against the skin.

It was an olive branch, an effort of despaired apology by a woman who knew not how to speak, but how to _show_ her beloved adoration.

Chuck's eyes rolled backwards, revealing the pearly whites through half-shut lids as her lips traced a delicate path of persistent butterfly wings down his cheek. The sensation was of the softest flutter, but still holding a slight shaking through the journey. Her lips trailed downward, bringing lovely warmth throughout his body as his hands clutched at her hips, fingers pressing tightly against the skin.

Her lips met the corner of his, and she paused, hovering a bit at the weighty moment. Chuck turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes, so that their lips, like many instances before, stood a breath away from contact.

Vanilla.

The mind-consuming question throughout the entire journey was finally acknowledged.

Her lips tasted of the sweetest, most wretchedly exquisite vanilla.

She pressed herself more firmly against him, arms tightening at his neck and breasts pushed up against his beating chest. His hands, of their own volition, moved down from the clutch at her hips and caught her thighs, wrapping rigidly around them and urging her closer to his form. His tongue dipped into her mouth, and all rational thought that had been left over eternally waved farwell as she moaned erotically, tongues mashing together in a heated dance of pent-up desire.

The kiss grew more furious and needy, her fingers grabbing the locks of dark hair resting behind his neck and tugging ruthlessly at them, angling his head upwards. Her lips found the bare surface below his jawbone, and his eyes shut tightly at the sensation of her blessed tongue licking at the nude skin with hungry abandon.

Never before had a woman invoked such _passion_ within him. The little vixen had her tongue trailing along his neck, and he found that the simple act was lighting a familiar fire deep within his belly, a raging inferno between two encountered lovers. Just when he thought that the fire would consume the two in a final battle of confined _obsession_, she pulled away from him, and his eyes shot open as the sensation disappeared.

Their eyes met in silence. He understood the plea she held within the shade of her orbs, indicating to her that he would oblige to her fiery advances.

His breath lodged in his throat as her hands crossed and grasped at the material of her dress, tugging the silver clothing over her head and tossing it against the floor.

Leaving her in a corset shell from her heaving breasts to her mid-thighs, a bit of skin, and eternal stockings covering her endless legs as she shifted her balance to her knees to hover over him.

The brash action had left her lips crimson and swollen, her face flushed, eyes wide and colored like burnt chocolate, gazing deep within his soul.

And finally, after weeks of agonizing images and stolen visions, he surrendered to the furious beating of his traitorous heart.

His mouth met hers, pushing against her until her back lay plush against the couch, his form lingering over hers. Her dainty fingers entangled between the shirt collar and his neck, flicking open the buttons at the top to release the magenta collar. His jacket and tie fell to a useless heap atop the carpet as her palms slipped beneath his shirt, caressing the rough curls of dark hair at his chest. His tongue left her mouth and licked a sensual path across her cheek before it traced the delicate curve of her ear. Blair moaned loudly at the sensation and pressed his body tighter to hers, so that the curls of his chest hair pressed up against her tight bodice.

"Lift your leg for me, Blair."

The heat that escaped his mouth overcame her ear at his breathless request and the accompanied endearment. She relented to his command, wrapping one leg around his waist, one heel digging into his lower calf. His mouth moved from her ear and he caught her eyes, as their rhythmic heavy breathing filled the room.

Keeping the pointed gaze, Chuck's fingers slid from her ankle along her leg, relishing in the smooth surface of the porcelain skin. His thumb pressed ever so lightly behind her knee before continuing the trail upwards so that his entire palm wrapped around her upper thigh and disappeared into the black corset shell.

Gulping, Blair kept her eyes locked on the nearly black eyes of Chuck. When his head moved downwards, her eyes met the dark locks atop his head as his lips aroused the smooth skin at her chest.

Her eyes rolled backwards as his lips pressed more firmly against the top of an exposed and heaving breast.

Bottom lips caught between her teeth, Blair's eyes fluttered shut as her fingers urgently pressed his head roughly against her right breast. She glorified in the heat of the overwhelming sensations that had overcame her, as his tongue and lips alternated between biting and pressing urgent kisses against the sensitive skin. The weeks of endless torture, when his fingers had danced ever so seductively over her palm, and his breath had been a mere _inch _from her neck, finally found release as Chuck tasted the porcelain skin he had grown to worship.

A vibrating sensation against her inner thigh interrupted the fiery torture. Chuck's lips lifted from the sensitized skin, his gaze meeting hers at the most unwelcome disruption. His fingers left the warm coccoon below the shell as they dove into his pants pocket, retrieving the cellular device and tossing it atop the coffee table before meeting his lips to her arm.

"Chuck..." she breathed against his ear, her body lifting itself off the leather of the couch as her fingers held ever so rigidly to his collar.

He knew who it was, even with the unfamiliar number flashing across the display.

When the vibration began once again, Blair chuckled at his brazen action and managed to speak. "Chuck! What if it's someone important?"

His lips stopped their torturous surrender and his eyes lifted upwards to meet hers.

"It's not."

That seemed to be an appropriate answer as his teeth dug into the skin at her shoulder. She gasped loudly, legs tightening around his waist as she soared over him, fingers delving into the bare skin behind his neck, chocolate curls wrapping around them to hide their forms.

But as soon as the wretched vibration ended, it began for a third time, moving the cellular device across the table. Blair groaned at the disturbance and met his frustrated gaze.

"Take the call, Chuck."

His eyes held her own for a few moments. As much as he would have enjoyed to continue the evening in the direction it was heading, Blair would get suspicious at the number of relentless calls, effectively destroying the mood. He nodded slowly, and she lifted herself off him, in a flurry of mussed curls and shaking legs. Before she left, however, she leaned downwards, inviting Chuck to a tempting glimpse of her cleavage.

Chuck smirked, pressing his lips tightly against hers. When the kiss grew in intensity with mashing tongues and lips, and he was sure that their previous position would be revisited, Blair pulled away and smiled devilishly, her heels taking her away from the scene.

Leaving Chuck with an incredible hardness between his legs and one of the first true smiles that had ever graced his face.

_"My love,_

_If the sea and you were not here_

_I wouldn't be here either,_

_My love,_

_Love exists when_

_We are close to God,_

_My love."_

_Translation, "O Mare E Tu"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Thanks so much for reading! Finally, the long-awaited CB kiss (and a bit more, hehe :)! What did you think? I haven't written a bit of smut in a lengthy amount of time, so I hope it was somewhat decent:) Please leave a thought!

And I highly suggest listening to the chorus of Andrea Bocelli's O Mare E Tu on youtube (.com/watch?v=OwfbTVzN-fc). It has such a haunting and wonderously challenging chorus that gave me incredible inspiration for the ending scene. It was also the quote and the translation I used in this chapter.

Next update should be available mid next week. I'll also have a formal announcement then about the coming updates to this story over the summer.

Have a great weekend :)


	20. Chapter 20: Accursed Devil

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Wow! It feels so good to be back! I do hope this chapter will make up for the lost time, as it's a bit longer and absolutely brimming with CB :) And **WOW, **200 reviews?! It feels SO much more fulfilling than 100! Thanks so much for the multitude of reviews, as well as those wonderful reviewers and subscribers who make it all worth it. Here is the refined chapter, to my liking, with a **huge** cyberhug to all my readers, anonymous and reviewers :) Much is to come for our duo.

**Chapter 20: Accursed Devil**

_"Be my friend,_

_Hold me, wrap me up,_

_Unfold me,_

_I am small,_

_and needy,_

_Warm me up,_

_And breathe me."_

_S__ia, "Breathe Me"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Chuck tossed the flimsy silver device against the couch with a sigh, his head leaning backwards to meet the cooled surface of the pale leather. He had just fabricated a fictitious conversation with an imagined business partner, his voice carrying on interest towards the cellular phone and responding at appropriate intervals. After the third vibration had ended, Chuck put the phone on a blessed silence to avoid another chance suspicion from Blair.

A delicious smile stretched his lips as he recalled the utter ferocity of their earlier session. She had felt so perfect against him, the angles of her lithe body fitting in so exquisitely to his own. Her skin had felt heavenly beneath his fingertips, and those wretchedly divine lips had seduced him into clear insanity, until he wasn't sure what was reality and what constituted those late-night dreams of the brunette vixen. Those darkened caramel eyes had grown even more nightly with every caress until they became nearly blackened.

Bewitchment. That seemed to be the only logical explanation for the intense desire his body felt for hers, the yearning of his lips pressed up against the hidden crevices of her form. She had most certainly bewitched him, body and soul.

And he found himself eager for another such entrancement beneath her body.

Yet, Chuck couldn't quite focus entirely on their encounter. The persistence of the calls had clouded his mind over until he couldn't divulge his entire attention on the woman before him.

He was an intelligent man to realize that if his father had called even more than once, the matter was strongly urgent and needed his attention.

Bart was a calculating man of extreme value; the incessant calling was clearly of great importance, and had obviously pushed the elder Bass to contact Chuck with more than one instant.

And Chuck had dismissed the entirety of the vibrations. Instead, he had pushed aside the matter in his mind and dug his lips more firmly against Blair's skin, desperate for the porcelain surface to diminish all of his worries and fears at the missed number of calls.

As if her body could save him from the frightening implications of his brazen action.

He was an idiotic man, indeed. His father would be furious; of that he was certain. His eyes tightened at the blatant realization that he had possibly just ignited the wrath of Bart Bass even more prominently.

Would there... _could_ there ever be sound forgiveness?

Gulping soundly, his sweated palms wiped against the fabric of his trousers as he stood up quickly, slipping the cellular device into his pocket. He had no desires for more of Bart Bass's calls; the silenced device would allow him some time to think of his next planned action.

Could he feign having left the phone in his hotel room?

Or could he simply admit to his father that he had been... occupied with Blair and did not wish to arouse her suspicion in any way?

A flashing thought raced through his mind at another explanation. He shook his head slightly, cursing the traitorous thoughts that had engulfed his mind.

He couldn't very well just divulge to his father that he didn't want to answer the call.

As if such an admittance would have the elder Bass chuckling in amusement.

It was incredibly dangerous and even more stupid, but he found that his feet, of their own volition, carried him to the foyer in search of Blair.

When he heard those blessed heels atop a hardened floor, his ears followed the lovely sound into an area that would be deemed a kitchen. The large, expansive room held many devices of silver touch, along with a collection of kitchen utensils that would have made his maids in Paris nearly screech in excitement, fingers roaming over the bright utensils in obvious anticipation of their use.

His eyes immediately locked on the most alluring piece in the room.

A robe clad Blair, her dark hair falling in delicious waves down her back, fingers popping brightly colored berries into her mouth from a silver plate. The sheer robe left much to view; the corset landed just above her thighs and fitted tightly around her supple waist. Lengthened legs trailed downward to the floor, the skin covered in sheer black stockings that somewhat matched the robe covering her body. She wore no shoes, instead her toes moving to an unknown rhythm, the beat flitting those darkened locks back and forth as she swayed to invisible music within her head.

She looked positively goddess-like, her hips swaying slightly at his darkened watch.

With a smirk, Chuck moved closer to her back, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist when she seemed to remain undisturbed by the newest intruder. His lips found the bared expanse of skin just below her ear, trailing across the smooth flesh in a light butterfly caress, a hint of barely-there vanilla permeating his senses. Blair smiled at the adored sensation and picked up a brightened blueberry, turning around swiftly in his arms and inviting Chuck to a sweetened taste of the adored bit of fruit.

Chuck accepted the offering with devilish eyes, engulfing her thumb and forefinger into his mouth as the juice of the blueberry exploded into his mouth. His tongue caressed the sweetened digits, enjoying the heavy taste of the ripened blueberry juice against her fingers. She smiled wickedly, linking her robe-clad arms around his neck as she leaned her weight against the marbled countertop, his form easily over hers.

"Was the call important?"

Her innocent prodding brought another habitual smirk to his lips, an action that had noticeably occured more frequently whenever he was in her presence. His eyes darkened to a nearly impossible depth as his free hand found its way to her nude thigh, his palm delved beneath the silken material of her robe, splaying his fingers against the bared skin he had worshipped moments earlier, atop the leathered couch that would forever hold invisible stains of their tumultuous journey.

How poetic, he thought to himself.

The couch would hold memories of a destruction of an heiress, as well as the driven insanity of a humble man of the world, merely hoping for a second glance from his father.

"Terribly," he responded darkly, his foice suave and smooth despite the pestering flutter deep within his abdomen. Unconsciously, he thanked the heavens that she had chosen to cover her supple body with the one thinning material, rather than the heavy silver slip she had donned that earlier night.

"Well, I took the liberty of calling Serena and canceling," she spoke, a hint of anticipation threading her words at the implications of the previously innocent call. "So I'm all yours for the evening."

His eyes lit with amusement at the seductive hint of her voice. Thoughts of spending even another second with her was incredibly inviting, but he had remembered that a woman of her stature would probably have other plans for such an evening. It delighted him to know she had dismissed an evening with an adored best friend to spend it with him, in her home, with the world's activities waiting for them.

He truly was an ass.

"That sounds divine."

She licked her lips, smiling and holding the tender gaze. His eyes left hers, watching the gentle ascent of his warmed palm from her lower thigh upward. The idea of spending the entire evening with the brunette vixen was so incredibly appealing that he found that the slight fluttering in his abdomen grow to extreme strength.

However, before he would gladly suggest a location for their much-desired activities, his eyes caught sight of the incessant flashing in his pocket. His mind offered miles of cursing at the destructive timing of his father's incessant calls. Couldn't he leave the two of them alone for a few moments? Would the hardened planning of the seduction ever leave his mind?

Could he spend a few minutes with Blair Waldorf as Chuck Bass, a meager man enthralled by the woman before him?

And not Charles Bartholemew Bass, a man with a carefully designed plan to destroy a beloved woman's future and reputation?

Gulping at the fear that Blair would realize the numerous calls and grow (deservedly) suspicious, he turned his eyes back to hers.

"I just have to make a quick call," he explained with an air of annoyance, "and then I'll be yours as well."

She nodded slowly in beloved acceptance as the heated body atop hers pulled away, leaving her a bit frigid and frosted. She gestured to a room besides the kitchen to ensure his privacy.

She had even offered him a private room so he could make his call without any sort of disruption or suspicion.

God in heaven, he truly was a _deserved_ ass.

"I'll be waiting."

Was it just him, or were her hips swaying even _more_ temptingly as she moved to the living room?

He nodded in response, feet quickly taking him to the mahogany-lined doors of a library-like structure. The room housed an oak desk with matching chairs, as well as wall-lined bookshelves filled with colorful lines of various printed texts. It was certainly not as extravagantly filled as the library he had done most of his research on the Waldorf family, and yet, it held a comforting aura of a family-owned room of valuable worth.

When he was sure that Blair was out of sight, his fingers rapidly dialed the insistent number. He barely heard a ring before a response.

"Charles."

The normally bland (and somewhat bored) voice of Bart Bass was nonexistent. Instead, a hint of annoyance and anger permeated the elder Bass's voice.

In fact, other than when Bart had described the details of the assignment a few weeks earlier, Chuck had never been greeted with as much enthusiasm (no matter how negative) from his father.

The Chuck of weeks ago would have been slightly pleased at the increased interest from his father.

At the moment, a hint of dreadful annoyance permeated his mind.

"Father."

A long moment of silence passed between the two, as if the two parties understood that this conversation would have far more depth than previously perceived. Chuck understood that his father's repeated calls would have some purpose; he would never willingly interrupt Chuck's work if the note wasn't vital.

Or could it be that the nature of himself refusing to answer at a moment's notice... pushed his father to anger? Would Bart Bass see it as clear rebellion?

"You haven't been returning my calls," the man explained obscurely, his voice laced with disdain and disappointment that made Chuck inwardly cringe. "We had an agreement, Charles."

The disappointment with which he exclaimed made Chuck realize that the supposed agreement was of the entire treacherous assignment of the seduction of Blair Waldorf, and not of the simple lack of returned calls.

"I've... been busy, Father," he managed to respond, a lack of dignified control in his words.

Even the most rigorous of his colleagues wouldn't notice his stutter.

But he was his father's son. Bart Bass would immediately realize his son's nervous nature.

He certainly didn't want to appear weak at that present moment.

"I do hope you've completed some sort of goal in the entire assignment," he heard Bart sigh. "Too much time, money, and effort has been sacrified in the hopes of some sort of success."

Chuck held back the scoff and disgusted expression that threatened to emerge from his side in the states. All his father had done in the past few weeks was release Stan from his large staff and support the pre-fabricated story of Chuck's absence to the board directors, and any interested, of Bass Industries.

His father didn't have to manage with tempting crimson lips, bared porcelain backs, and wretchedly beautiful smiles.

"This assignment has proven... more difficult than expected," he replied. At least he had spoken a somewhat truthful response. He gulped before continuing, willing his words to be spoken in an air of his own control. "I don't think I can continue."

There.

He had said it.

That one treacherous thought swimming in his mind had finally been released. However, instead of the calming effect it supposedly would have had on him, he felt his heart grow even more panicky at the admitted truth.

Bart remained silent on the other side.

As if the man could understand the pure agony racing through Chuck's soul at the admittance.

Finally, after what Chuck would deem centuries of quiet, he heard his father sigh heavily, a lengthy and disappointed response that Chuck could have anticipated.

After all, was a father to rejoice at the supposed failing of an undertaking? Merely chuckle and dismiss the entire notion, or bring an air of comedy to the scene?

Any worthwhile father would be saddened.

Even though, to Chuck's knowledge, no fathers that called for the complete destruction of a beloved heiress seemingly existed.

And yet, as always, Bart Bass had tragically proven the impossible.

"You know that's not what I want to hear, Chuck."

The simple use of his everyday name was yet another attempt at heart-wrenching guilt. There existed only a handful of times in his life when his father used his casual name. And all of those moments, he had uttered such a simplicity to ignite guilt into Chuck's nature, to make him feel horrible for the supposedly treacherous act he had committed, no matter how petty it would have seemed to any other citizen of the world.

"I..." Chuck spoke, cursing the shaking ferocity of his voice. He brought his thumb and finger to the bridge of his nose, pressing harshly to relieve the growing pressure deep within the curved structure. He inwardly commanded his voice to take on more tranquility before speaking.

"I want this to stop."

The words hung between the two like blissful raindrops held by risen clouds, ready to make their rapid descent to the green earth. Chuck allowed the blissful silence that followed, a sure way for his father to readily collect the earth-shattering truth.

No way in hell had he signed up for such an assignment. The plan aboard the flight from Paris, and he had rehearsed said plan repeatedly during the comfortable flight, was to walk in, seduce the woman with a few provoking compliments, bed the woman in a short week's time, learn a most dreadful secret that she would have only disclosed to him, expose such a devastating truth to a most willing press, and walk out smirking at the destructive ruins he had initiated, prepared to greet his father's pride-soaked face at the arrival terminal in Paris.

The plan did not include anything about the insanity the target would bring to his life, or the treachery of the combination of chocolate curls and pale skin.

And yet, if it had, would he have accepted the assignment?

Or would he have fallen to disloyalty and sought out the woman as Chuck Bass, a businessman from Paris who took a liking to brunettes?

"That's just not possible, Charles."

The calculating and deceitful Bart Bass rightfully took his place on the other side.

Chuck's fingers visibly shook against the device as the silence dragged on. Was that it? Was that the only response his father could formulate at his son's request?

Would he really deam it as the apocalypse if Chuck ended the destruction that was sure to pass if he was to fulfill his father's sole wish?

Just _what_ was his father hiding that was making the completion of the task so very crucial in his eyes? And why would he not reveal the truth to his only son?

Finally, he spoke, rage and anger unconsciously seeping through his voice at the utter apathy of his father's words. "I won't do it anymore. This whole _fucking_ plan stops, right now."

Bart remained silent on the other line, as if contemplating the severity of Chuck's response. Finally, when Chuck was prepared to toss his phone against the wall in pure frustration at the continued silence he was met with, he heard his father emit an unfamiliar light chuckle.

"You, of all people, should know how important loyalty is to me."

Chuck shut his eyes tightly at the smirk that he was sure was planted upon his elder's features as Bart continued to speak, his voice growing dark and threatening with every stretched syllable. "Don't test me, Charles."

When silence continued, he lifted the end from his ear and peered at the flashing message.

_Call Ended._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The warmest of tender smiles, an action unconsciously frequented thruogh these past few days, stretched across Blair's divine features as she settled her lithe body against the plush leather of the couch, feet curling underneath. Never before had she felt such true and unashamed happiness in her entire life, the feeling of such elated joy overcoming her entire being.

No moment could defeat her present one, even the scene of what seemed decades ago, of herself standing ever so proudly, shoulders straight and feet delicately aligned, body adorned in a white children's gown.

She could recall the image so well. The shoes, ballerine-styled, had been far too tight, and although her toes nearly cried out in agony at the constrained sensation, she had ignored the discomfort with an attitude that would have made any well-behaved child blush in embarrassment. Instead, she had plastered one of the most convincing portrayals of a little girl frolicking in an abandoned garden of rusted bars and bright colors of the most sought after wildflowers in the world, the photographer clicking at the device as Blair continued her very first modeling session. Later, when the photographer beamed at the multitude of perfected photos, and Blair was gifted with one of the fewer authentic smiles from a nearly shaking Eleanor, she had forever deemed that moment as true happiness. The sensation of having been so successful at her first try at what would later be deemed one of the most difficult inudustries, as well as her mother's honest adoration, made Blair wish to feel that way every time she was offered a character role before a photographer and his lens.

Each and every session, she would mentally prepare herself for the person she was to assume for that particular assignment. Her personas ranged from a child of a most sought after innocence to a woman seeking a more vixen-like approach to her assumed life. She adored her job; there existed no doubt in her mind of such a logical conclusion. Although her mother had coaxed and prepped her only daughter for the family's continued legacy, the feeling of well-deserved yet somewhat selfish pride quickly came after that fated interval, in a white flowered gown amidst the phantasmal ruins of a constructed garden.

And yet... those few tender moments with Chuck far beseeched the supposed satisfaction she had gained whilst modeling. Mentally, she cursed herself for even acknowledging the supposed notion of Chuck's betrayal.

How could she ever have believed that a man who held her with such care, that a man who gazed at her ever so longingly could be capable of performing one of the most inhumane acts in the world?

His eyes, which had grown with an increasing intensity of the color of lightened caramel, had stared at her with sch an unabashed desire that brought a fluttering sensation to her stomach.

Blair grinned lightly, popping another brightened blueberry into her mouth. She had first read about the butterfly sensation, as they liked to call it, within the creased pages of a romantic novel she had found discovered deep within her mother's library at the age of sixteen. Young, tender, and fanatically delirious to love, she had grasped at the half-wasted novel, adoring the way it allowed her to escape from the confines of teenage boys to the heated passions that could lie in her future. There she sat, hands clutching at a warmed cup of styrofoam amidst the confines of her closet, her eyes scanning the blackened lines of the lovely treasure, taking in every moment of the heated romance. Diana, servant to a wealthy lord's plantation, had caught the eye of the lord's brother, and had secretly begun a fiery affair that had made Blair's cheeks redden at their late-night encounters. Diana had perfectly described the feeling of those butterflies flying deep within her abdomen, constricting her breathing and sleeping rituals, simply to the fact that she was in love with a man who certainly loved her back. It had been her sole comfort, when Eleanor had taken the opportunity to expand her company to all corners of the country, to venture deep within the corners of a used book store and choose from a variety of Harlequin romances that had been generously donated by the citizens of New York.

No other novel that Blair had chosen to read had ever mentioned the butterfly sensation. In fact, it saddened Blair a bit when she had completed the newest romance novel and hadn't found a single hint of the beloved creation. She had chosen to keep the tattered remains of her first romance novel within a locked chest underneath her bed, eager to visit the story once again when a newest relationship proved to fail.

Late at night, Blair would lay beneath the sheets and dream of that perfected moment when those much-loved butterflies would visit an ever eager bruenette. With years came the general acceptance that such an overimagined fantasy would never come to pass.

She had somewhat forgotten of that creature of the earth some years ago.

After all, after ever failed relationship, who could honestly dream of the exact moment of an adored love?

For the first time in her life, those damned butterflies finally chose to grace a certain brunette with their presence.

And Balir was certainly pleased with their choice of lover.

Before her fingers could drop another blueberry into her mouth, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around her middle, her back plushed against a chest. She smiled at the most welcome intrusion into her thoughts. Her fingers abandoned the supposed destination, instead offering the colored bit of fruit into the mouth of the intruder behind her, as she had done moments earlier. Chuck accepted the delicate fruit and bit into it gently, spraying the tips of Blair's fingers with a darkened blue liquid. The gesture, which woudl have been deemed far too intimate for the Chuck of week ago, was gratefully acknoledged and enjoyed by both parties. Although the thought was fleeting, it was particularly noted.

"Is everything all right?" Blair questioned in an air of delighted courtesy.

Chuck licked his lips at the innocent prodding. Although his father had completely refused his request to end the assignment, and although his heart was slowly beginning to beat at a safe pace, he couldn't seem to shake the believe that this entire ruse... well, it could have been very real.

He and Blair could have met of a complete coincidence in an adored city. He, as a man understandably concerned for her well-being from a jealous ex-boyfriend, could have saved her from a horribly brutal act of revenge.

Although their meetings had been deviously orchestrated, and although their encounters wouldn't have occured as frequently without his steady calculating, there existed some truth to the entire operation. There had to be some sort of honesty in some aspect of the assignment.

How could his eyes brighten so warmly at the sight of his lover? How could his heart change its pace when she choose to tempt him so righteously?

How could he _feel_ so strongly if there existed no truth?

His words had been true, of that he could say. His gazes had been honest.

Every facet to the entire journey had been a mix of dishonesty with truth.

Shaking himself out of what he would deem deepening thoughts, he tugged her a bit tighter to himself, bringing his lips to the delicate shell of her ear, forcing those treacherous thoughts to flee from his mind and envelop himself in the air that was Blair. "I do hope you realize that I adore your gentle concern."

He felt her amusement, her smile stretching to the sides of her face as she leaned her ear against those sacred lips, desperately wishing for more heat. "A part of my everlasting charm, I'm afraid," she offered, her words spoken quietly and in a delicate slurring voice.

She felt his throaty laughter behind her. Her robe, which had delightfully parted when he had decided to join her company moments earlier, hung to the sides of her bared thighs, exposing more of the naked skin she so easily sported. His fingers, of their own volition, of course, traveled to the exposed skin and began a supple trek across the expanse.

"Your everlasting charm has driven me insane, Blair."

"I'm pleased," she teased, palm moving to rest at the nape of his neck behind her form, eyes not meeting his. "How would you deem your _own_ charm?"

His voice grew dark, breath hot on the sensitive organ. "From my view, it seems to have been successful."

She couldn't find the words to respond to such a truth. Although he had been extremely forward at the bar the night of Serena's birthday party, and although he hadn't allowed his eyes to leave her at the Italian restaurant, she had fallen for him, mind, body, and soul.

Yet, along with his somewhat agonizing persistence came a courtship that truly made her feel like an adored prize to be eternally treasured. He had ran after her amidst the chill of a New York winter to simply ask for a single evening with her. He had organized a spectacle at a well-received restaurant for their privacy that would have put any romantic hero to shame. He had held her atop a darkened marble balcony overlooking New York City and its wonders, foreheads pressed tight against each other, arms keeping her body heated.

And, far more honorable, he had saved her from the vengeance of EJ and hadn't dared to even take advatange of her vulnerable state. Instead, he had held her warmly during the night and faced her confusion by morning with a grace that made her cheeks redden in true embarrasment.

And here he sat, the man who had stolen her soul and heart, with a most tender touch that made her flush with desire.

"Even after everything I put you through," she murmured, her voice low that made him realize that her joyous nature was slowly diminishing. "You're still here."

He sighed quietly, pressing his lips to her robe-clad shoulder, inhaling the deep scent of her inherent vanilla. He allowed a moment of silence before speaking. "How'd you know?" When he was met with silence, he clarifying. "How'd you know it wasn't me?"

She turned around, eyes finally meeting his as she sat atop his lap, arms curling around his neck. No explanation was necessary; the two knew what incident Chuck was alluding to. "I'm starting to remember what happened. Flashes every now and then, but it's..." she explained, her cheeks reddening a bit with a crimson blush. "It's enough."

When Chuck realized that she had probably recalled the more... _intimate_ parts of the prior evening, he did not speak, merely continuing to gaze at her angelic form as it hovered over him. "And then I realized," she continued, voice hinted with an air of honesty. "I realized that I already knew."

And it was true. There didn't, and could never exist, any evidence defending his stance of that earlier night. Concrete proof could never be provided to prove that EJ had been the one who had tried to violate her within the trashy ruins of a decaying room in a classless bar. All that Blair could trust were those momentary flashbacks, those fleeting glimpses of past indiscretions that had rapidly overcame her moments after she had returned home. With every passing hour after she had invited Chuck for the evening came even more rapid and shorter clips of time that nearly confirmed his denial.

A flash of her bared thigh straddling his hip against the bed.

A glimpse of his eyes squeezed shut at her more forward advances.

And finally, the most admirable of all: a moment of his feet shuffling against the hardwood floor of his hotel room as he refused to continue the evening in the direction it was most certainly headed.

Although they were shortlived and could not qualify as tangible piece of confirmation, those repeated flashbacks were all Blair needed to confirm his most tender innocence.

After all the moments they had shared, how cuold she even have thought him to be so utterly cruel and inhumane?

Her fingers pressed themselves against the softened surface of his lips, tracing the outline of the shape with qualified tenderness. His eyes softly shut at the gesture, eternally hypnotized by the utter ferocity of a simple touch.

"It took every ounce of my strength to resist you, Blair," he murmured, lulled by the soothing contact. "You certainly didn't make it easy."

Blair chuckled at his words, allowing her adored happiness to overcome her entire being once again. She felt Chuck's lips widen in a smile before pressing his lips tightly against her fingers, kissing the much-loved digits.

Once her laughter subsided, Blair placed her forehead against Chuck's, speaking in a throaty whisper. "I want to show you something."

Chuck's eyes opened, allowing him to see a seductive grin placed atop Blair's features. Lifting herself off his lap, she offered her hand to aid Chuck. Blair slipped on the silver piece of her outfit that had been discarded earlier, and together, the two departed from her apartment with an air of perfected desire and longing.

And yet, neither of the two beings took notice of the incessant flashing of a cellular device amidst the worn leather of the couch.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chuck's smile was familiar as he took a long glance at the rising stature of the building the two of them were slipping through. His mind immediately recognized the evergrowing tower of the Waldorf modeling building, along with the known entrance that he himself had greeted in what seemed hours earlier. Blair and himself had ran across the busied streets of New York City, her hand clutching at his ever so tightly as they manuevered through the tiny crevices between taxicabs, earning well-deserved and angered stares and a few choice words for their brazen actions. However, Blair had simply giggled a sound that brought a delightful grin to his face (for he had been prepared to teach those rude citizens a much-deserved lesson on etiquette, indeed) as they continued to stroll through the worn pavement to the grand building.

Shushing the man beside her to remain quiet, Blair slipped a worn golden key into the traditional doors of her mother's company. Her mind, which had memorized the darkened expanse of the reception room due to frequented visits, led the duo across the widening hallway of the multitude of doors. As the two entered a room, Chuck realized it to be the one where Blair had done her goddess cover for her perfume shot.

The set had remained exactly the same, with the dark sheets placed ever so haphazardly against the bed lying in the center. Yet the room seemed far more messier; the floor was nearly covered in cables and wires of every color, and a desk had been pulled into the room, with an equal amount of scattered papers and glossy images laid atop the counter.

"Ramos left me a message earlier this afternoon," Blair explained as the two danced across the flurry of cables littering the ground below them, tangles of curled snakes restriciting their quickened stroll. "He told me to take a look at the supposed ad for the campaign."

"Isn't it a bit too earlier to be looking at the final copy?" Chuck questioned. He certainly wouldn't deem himself an expert in the industry of photo shoots, but even his most successful projects hadn't happened overnight. "Don't these kind of things need, like, a week of preparation?"

Blair continued to lead Chuck by the hand to the center desk. "He must have been excited to put it all together."

A dual set of eyes stared at the glossy photograph placed atop the growing heap of papers covering the surface of the desk.

The porcelain skin of Blair's body shimmered like an aged diamond against the blackened sheets of the bed. The layers of chiffon had been pulled to her waist so that her curved leg and thigh were bare and nude against the dark surface below her. The heave of her breasts was proud and strong, so that the only flimsy material covering her went from her waist to the curve of her breasts. Her hair had been loosened, gentle waves of chocolate surrounding her ashen face. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her shut eyes held a white shadow surrounding them, so that the intensity of the color nearly popped against the black background.

Chuck's entire form had been cloaked with a dark fabric. It was as if they had smothered his entire body with midnight black paint and allowed him to hover over Blair's body. The only way a viewer would be able to tell between the black surface of the sheets and background and Chuck's body was the fact that his hand was clutching at Blair's nude thigh, his head pressed tight against her forehead. He looked to be an image of the accursed devil himself, tempting the woman beneath him with a single grasp of her thigh and a simple touch of their foreheads.

And Blair looked utterly lured by the creature above her, her head tilted back to expose her pale throat, heave of her breasts held and high.

The pose looked entirely too intimate to be used as an advertisement, and yet, written in a silver-colored calligraphy were the following words:

_Dior. Indulge in a most desired fantasy._

Chuck's fingers skimmed over the shiny surface of the photograph, fingers halting their journey over the image of his midnight hand wrapping around Blair's pale thigh. "Is that really us?"

He heard Blair chuckle with amusement. "Ramos did say that this was one of his best works. It's going to be featured in every major fashion magazine in the country, as well as Europe."

Chuck smiled at the thought. Although it was a bit arrogant to think that he and Blair's private moment of foreplay would be subjected to every fashion reader within the states and Europe, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of extreme pride. All his life, he had been trained to deal with economics and business, ever since he was able to skim the scrawled lines of a book. Bart had made it his lifelong objective to shape Chuck into the business savvy he would grow up to be. Chuck hadn't even considered any other major in college; immediately during his sophmore year, he had transferred into the school of business and began his arduous study of the dealings of a major company. Of course, he was talented at his work. Hundreds of closed and successful partnerships would support that worthwhile conclusion.

And yet, there still existed a part of him, no matter how small it may be, that yearned to explore other options. He had been interested in photography in high school, even going as far as buying off a worn camera from a wasted druggie during his junior year. It had been a silly contraption; the buttons had been worn, its paint chipping from constant use and abuse, and the strap had been cut off when he had received the device from the ever-eager owner. It had cost him a mere twenty bucks, and had been the most inexpensive thing he had ever bought in his life.

The device had stayed with him for week, before a foreign maid had dropped the camera and broken the lens. His father found no use for the object and had tossed out the device before Chuck's seventeeth birthday. Although it had stayed with him for such a short time, the camera had been like a loyal animal to him. He carried the thing everywhere with him, earning him some angered responses in the classroom when he pulled it out for an unexpected film session.

And damn, did he take some pictures.

They weren't very good, really. He could recall thousands of films scattered around his room, the pictures remaining undeveloped during the course of the week. His eyes would catch sight of an image he found compelling, and his finger would snap the shot without a moment's notice. He must have went through hundreds of rolls of film a day. The images weren't so philosophical either. A bared tree in the winter, an empty bag dancing along the street during a windy autumn day. Whatever he felt deserved to be capture, he would do without a second thought.

How much simpler times were back then, he thought to himself.

Fleeting thoughts of chocolate waves, reddened lips, and family loyalty and blood had never crossed his mind then.

But, those mind-numbing thoughts of that tempting brunette did exist.

And although they drove him mad with desire, he wasn't about to set them free so easily.

His arms wrapped around her middle, fingers linking together at her belly, as he rested his chin atop her shoulders. "Look how beautiful you look."

His whisper was hot and heavy against Blair's ear, the form tingling at the sensation. "Look how beautiful _we_ look."

He clutched her even more closely to his ever prepared body, pleased with her response, at the way she had included him so easily. Blair snuggled tightly against him, sinking her bottom into the prominent bulge between his legs. A delicious smirk emerged at the rushed sensation, but it immediately channeled into pleasure, her lids shutting ever so freely as Chuck's tongue made contact with the nape of her neck.

Her head tilted to the side, allowing more of the porcelain skin to be exposed to his entirely greedy hunger. His teeth bit into the gentle skin, tongue soothing the pressurized foreplay when she shut her eyes at the imprinted marks left upon her skin.

She would forever maintain the marks of Chuck Bass across her body.

Before he could fathon a moment of time's passing, his bottom landed atop the crinkled silken sheets of the carved bed, his palm resting at the hips of Blair's waist.

Dark strands of her hair surrounded her face as she stood before him, hands covering his own at her tiny waist, his eyes gleaming towards her form, the eternal goddess remaining unmoving before his gaze.

Her fingers left the warmth of Chuck's hands, splaying into the dark locks of her newfound lover. Chuck's lids sank shut, mouth gaping open and head falling backwards as her fingers softly massaged his scalp. His mind grew heavy and free as Blair's digits journeyed through his hair, her hips swaying slightly beneath his hands as the room filled with the imaginary rhythm playing through Blair's mind.

His hands rose from the curve of her waist, traveling to the column of buttons that held the two sides of her wool jacket close to her body. With a smirk, and his eyes still shut as Blair continued the ministrations at his scalp, he undid the buttons, one by one, until the jacket went loose against her frame.

His eyes slowly slid open, watching Blair's expression, to be certain that she was entirely comfortably at that point. After all, the night before, a vile creature hadn't even bothered to receive her agreement. He surely wasn't about to follow in that wretched man's footsteps.

When her hands left his locks, he smirked devilishly as her arms lowered, effectively dropping the heavy jacket to the floor below them.

Blair's lips opened slightly as she watched Chuck lay back against the covers of the bed, the silken sheets smooth below his back as his legs dangled off the end. Kicking her heels off from her worn feet, she climbed atop the bed with him, her body hanging over his at an angular direction. She braced her weight on one arm, the other landing across Chuck's chest, her fingers softly stroking the sharp angles of his cheekbone.

He was beautiful. Her fingers roamed over the angled features of his cheekbones, the smooth skin feeling like heavenly silk beneath her fingertips. His lips were full and inviting, his burned caramel eyes gazing at her with a slight fondness. One thumb traced over the sketch of his eyebrow, the fullness of his lips, the curve of his nose.

How could she ever have thought him to be less than the handsome creation that lay before her?

"I don't think think I even thanked you for last night," she murmured with a smile, her eyes lightened and pointed to his. She looked so beautiful at that moment, her face softened and hair falling down her back in a wave of dark delight. His hand flew from the hip of Blair's side to caress the silken curls, his eyes locked onto hers as the once empty dream of touching the locks of heaven so freely finally came to be.

"Blair," he spoke so affectionately, fingers tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Blair, don't you know that I would do anything for you?"

She smiled warmly, hand pulling his palm upward. When her fingertips roamed over his palm, tracing an unknown shape, a shiver of pleasure ran through Chuck's blood at the beloved sensation of pleasure. Her lips replaced her fingertips, his palm cupping her face as she placed the softest of kisses upon the skin.

"I don't feel alone anymore," she murmured slightly, her gaze locked with his. He smiled affectionately, placing a soft kiss against her forehead as her head fell to rest against the hardened surface of his chest. Her first, like a newborn babe, clutched tightly at the white fabric of his shirt, ear resting comfortably against the soft humming of his heart. The scent of worn scotch and cigarettes tickled her nose, a smell that was uniquely Chuck Bass, to her pleasure. She smiled warmly against his shirt as Chuck's fingers continued to softly stroll down her locks.

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest at the utter feeling of peace at the moment. Was this what Serena felt with Dan for all those years? It had easily confused Blair as to why the two continued to remain together after the collection of hateful words they would exchange. Did she consistently return to him after their most hurtful of fights, only to lay back against him, to feel the continuous beating of his heart?

She dared to wonder if this was what love felt like.

Moments of silence passed between the two, the duo pleased with their current position. Chuck wondered how he would ever be able to release the hold his fingers had on her hair. The curls brought a certain peace to him; briefly, he wondered how he had ever managed to live without the presence of Blair Waldorf within his life.

And, at that moment, their bodies lying atop the silken sheets of the set bed, hearts beating together in a slight constant pace, he made a silent promise to himself.

He would never be without Blair Waldorf, ever again.

She had sank into his blood, become a part of his body, his heart in one human frame.

After all, how could one live without his heart beating proudly within the confines of his chest?

Blair Waldorf was that to him. She was a living representation of his heart, of an organ that had been kept locked all these years, the key having been revealed to be held by a stunning brunette in New York City.

He urged her head upwards, forcing her eyes to meet his. She found utter warmth deep within the color of the orbs, as well as a sense of urgency, a desperation for her to hear what he deemed so valuable at that point.

"Blair," he whispered, her name spoken with such tender care that she nearly wept at the sudden joy she felt. "Blair, I'm never going to let you go."

He seemed to speak with a somewhat frightful tone, as if the thought that she meant so very much to him was alarming, and even apprehensive.

Rapidly, she pressed her lips tighty against him, urging him to show her exactly what he felt. He responded with an adoring affection that nearly made her weep with sudden joy, the stroking of their lips soft and full of warmth. When he pulled away, his palms cupped the sides of her face so lovingly as she grinned happily and spoke. "It's kind of magical. You and me."

He nodded slowly, her head moving back to rest against his chest. She tugged herself closer to him, and he invited the warmth, pulling her against his frame into a cocoon of his affection.

A comfortable humming emerged from the prolonged silence. Blair's voice oozed with tenderness and invitation; his ears yearned to pull her aside and listen to her voice for decades. She was his night siren, an untouchable creature of the sea that would lead sailors to seduction and heat, never to return the lost souls to sea.

As his eyes slowly drifted shut, one last thought floated through his mind.

He would never be the same, never again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thanks so much for those faithful readers and reviewers over the summer ;) This entire journey is just beginning, and I'm so delighted to be back in the fanfiction world.

As always, reviews are eternally adored. They are what kept me going after my brief hiatus. And they will keep me going for the next chapter :)

Have a great week!


	21. Chapter 21: Dramatic Gesture

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for the reviews! Sorry for the lack of updates: real life is in the way right now. I do hope this chapter makes up for it! As always, I want to thank every reader, reviewer, anonymous alerter, and all that wonderful jazz. You guys truly make late night writing absolutely worth it.

**Chapter 21: Dramatic Gesture**

_"Fear_

_And panic in the air,_

_I want to be free,_

_From desolation and despair,_

_And I feel,_

_Like everything I sow,_

_Is being swept away,_

_Well, I refuse to let you go."_

_Muse, "Map of the Problematique"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Bright rays of foreboding sunshine spanned through the windows of the room, unrelenting and unforgiving in its disturbing stretch to inhabit all darkened areas of the room. They sprinted rampant, extending entire lengths to engulf the silenced room in a flurry of demanding light. They ran over expensive fabrics strewn across the carpet, tangled wires and thick cords littering the floor, and finally rested upon a duo of interconnecting limbs and mussed hair.

Chuck winced slightly at the demanding streaks of light, his nose nuzzling closer to the expanse of skin before him. When a vague scent permeated his nostrils, memories of the previous night rushed through his mind, and he felt himself smile with pleasure.

Waking up beside Blair Waldorf could be a most soothing experience, indeed. There existed a certain peace within the vicinity of her presence, a somewhat glorious harmony that seemed to drown out the disturbances that his mind had deemed so valuable for thought. Instead, she seemed to demand the sole attention of the senses, breaking down the complications of thought and virtue into the simplicity of sight and sound, sense and smell.

He found it to be absolutely magnificent.

Vaguely, he recalled the trembling of her body when she had awoken, completely disoriented, in his bed _and _his shirt, that one treacherous night, when the workings of the world had challenged his dire loyalty, possible humanity. He could still see visions of her enraged eyes, quivering lips, and shades of crystal tears brimming deep within the surface of her orbs.

What could have began as a lovely morning and afternoon had quickly diffused into suspicion, anger, and finally a devastating resignation that had made him wonder how said workings of the world had brought him to this exact moment, his legs coiled with hers, nose buried deep into the perfumed skin.

This morning had far superceded that previous one. The two had fallen asleep atop the silken sheets, his fingers running slowly through those heavenly locks that had lulled Blair to a comfortable doze. He himself had lain awake, his fingers continuing to trek over her curls, ears trained to the engaging sounds of New York's beloved night life, eyes staring deep into the dark recesses of the room. It was his common stance during the late hours of the evening, but this time, the object of his thoughts lay beside him, serene, warm, and inviting.

He had wondered what Blair had thought when he had declared his devotion to her so desperately. He had smirked a familiar expression at the memory of Blair's generous offerings with countless bits of fruit. He had relished in the feeling of her fingers touching the angles of his face with utmost wonder.

It had been a night of remembrances, indeed.

And yet, when his father's haunting words began to tug at his conscious mind, and he had recalled Blair's innocent prodding at the number of incessant calls, he had quickly dismissed those intruding thoughts and invited sleep to overtake his exhausted body, tugging Blair closer to himself.

He had nearly crushed her against him.

He felt Blair stir before him, and he opened his eyes to gaze at the lovely creature held ever so tightly to his frame. Her dark, long lashes gracefully fell against her porcelain aura, and her mouth was parted slightly, deep, calming breaths bringing about a peaceful existence to her state. Instantly, she reminded him of a china doll, placed ever so cautiously atop an unreachable shelf, only to be gazed at with absolute curiousity at the perfected beauty so easily possessed.

Absolutely untouchable, and undoubtedly enchanting.

She looked so very calm, so very unplagued by the harshness of life and its injustice.

Could she see it in him?

Could she see the way his father's damned loyalty had overtaken him, had engulfed his entire soul with anger, had pushed him to _insanity_?

How it had made him a betrayar?

Or could she merely see him as the man who had charmed her with a courtship that would have put any romantic hero to shame?

Dismissing those thoughts, he continued to study Blair as she slept. Never before had he slept with no interruptions, no disturbances to lead his mind astray. His restless nights had dramatically increased after he had first met Blair Waldorf. Back then, she had been the target, the woman he was to seduce until she was limp to his will, ready to divulge any secrets that would surely ruin her and please Bart Bass's sickened desire at vengeance.

She had been an object, a mere play to his own advances, a silly little _game_ with his father.

And yet, visions of tempting curls and bared backs began to haunt him in ways he could have never imagined. He would see images of her beneath shut lids, behind the aged bookshelves of the library he frequently visited, amidst a crowd of New Yorkers strolling along the sidewalks. Just when he thought he had escaped her, a turn of a corner would send another image to his mind, and soon enough, he began to curse the ability of the mind to hold valued images of well-worth beauty.

He could recall one night of pure delusion with a stunning clarity. As soon as he had shut his eyes, the small of Blair's back appeared before him that had him bolting up from his bed in a sweat, nearly sprinting to the decanter by his bedside, and gulping down mouthfuls of scotch until he had passed out on the floor below him in utter frustration and endless exhaustion.

It had been quite an experience, to say the least, to have his body rudely awakened by a tough prodding of a broomstick against his shin by an incredibly curious foreign maid. When he had staggered and lifted himself to his feet, the maid had glanced at him with narrowed eyes, before shaking her head in what seemed to be disappointment and muttering a few illogical words to herself.

That had certainly _not_ been on the list of activities he was to impart upon in New York City. Instead, it only seemed to solidify the conclusion that Blair Waldorf had seeped into his skin, and she would not be very willing to depart from his subconscious.

He briefly noted their twisted legs, his arm coming to rest over her hip. With a mischevious sigh, Chuck teased his lips over hers, eyes watching her amused state as she slowly began to wake. He felt her smile beneath his lips, and he grinned slightly, pulling away.

"Good morning," she murmured with a happy sigh, her eyes still shut as a delirious feeling of comfort overcame her. Chuck's palm slowly paced around her hip, finally pressing at the skin in a protective gesture.

"A _very _good morning," he replied, his lips placing a soft kiss against her forehead. Her eyes revealed their color at the intensely intimate gesture as her mind noted the warmth of their closeness. His hair had taken on a life of its own, with strands of the dark locks flying in all directions. His eyes were warm and soft, his features holding a ghost of a smirk as he continued to run his thumb over the skin at her hip. He had taken off his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt, top few buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of the skin beneath. She was sure she could have slept for days if not for his waking; as soon as she had retired in his arms, she had encountered the most comforting doze of her entire life.

The ministrations of his fingers through her hair had been particulary helpful, of course.

Her lower back beginning to ache, she pulled herself up and stretched freely. Running a hand over her untame curls, and yet feeling absolutely no shame in her less-than-perfected appearance, she felt him rise up and curl his arms around her figure, her back resting against his chest. When his mouth ran a hot course over the nape of her neck, she chuckled gloriously, her arms coming to rest over his, rubbing gently at the hairs he so easily sported.

"I didn't know morning breath turned you on," she exclaimed, feeling him smile against her skin as his lips continued to skim over her nape, weight leaning a bit on hers.

"It's a very particular turn-on,"he replied heatedly, pulling her against him so she could feel how very _lovely _morning afters were for him. She tilted her head to an angle, exposing more of the skin to his greedy gaze. "You pass with flying colors."

And Chuck found himself unwilling to let her leave his embrace.

"My mother is going to _kill _me," she murmured lazily, eyes half-lidded as he continued to ravish her neck, her body supple to his touch. Even as she spoke, she made no move to pull herself to her feet, or even pull away from his body. "I was supposed to be in her office an hour ago."

Her eyes fluttered shut as his hot breath ran over her skin, fingers tugging at the silver strap of her dress to free her shoulder.

"I think," he murmured, placing his mouth over the bared skin of her shoulder, "that mothers," he continued, running his nose over the ball of her shoulder, "are _highly_ overrated."

She chuckled freely at his words, turning around so that he faced her form. Her fingers ran over the standing locks of his hair, a sight she was certain she would never, and wouldn't possibly, want to forget. His hair was angled in variously messy directions, and he had a slight goofy smile plastered on his features that began to form into his familiar smirk.

"I would agree," she responded with a smile. "But not when _said_ mothers are your employers."

He placed a gentle kiss to her awaiting lips, inhaling the sweet taste that was Blair Waldorf before he spoke.

"Have lunch with me," he suggested against her lips, hands coming up to roam over her bare arms. He spoke freely, unaware of how much she had seeped into his life, and how unwilling he was to part from her intoxicating presence. "There's this little cafe right by my hotel; quiet, small, beautiful music," he murmured, his words painting a heavenly picture of a most desirable location, with a most desirable companion. "Chocolate eclaires with dripping chocolate, maybe a walk in the park nearby..." His temptation was utterly and absolutely magnificent; Blair's eyes had shut at the image.

She groaned loudly at the suggestion, feeling his smile against her sweetened lips. "I need a couple of hours in the office," she exclaimed, her voice carrying on a depressed tone. "The plan sounds _heavenly, _Chuck."

He pulled away from her, and she opened her eyes to find his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Three o'clock."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"Blair? Blair Waldorf, are you even _listening _to me?!"

Blair's eyes immediately darted from the expansive windows of the set room to the tight frown on Gloria Summer's stretched features, her eyes widened and blossoming with anger, lips thin and tight in the characteristic expression of one of the most successful women of her generation.

Gloria had been her mother's assistant since before Blair herself had been born, and the elderly woman had dutifully aided Eleanor in offshooting her fashion company in the European marketing world. The two had met in university as undergraduate roommates, and although engaging personalities always seem to clash, they blended together beautifully in a shared love of 1940's fashion among an era of decreased fashion interest. Coming from old southern money, and a vibrant backround in fashion history and trends, along with a keen tendency to obtain whatever she set her mind on, Gloria had been absolutely indispensable to Eleanor's far-reaching success in the states, as well as some offshore accounts that had eventually made Eleanor Waldorf a common household name in decent homes. The two had been nearly inseparable for the past thirty years; as a child, Blair had been consistently reminded of the aid Gloria had offered to her ever eager mother, as well as the consequences that would surely follow if they were to lose the trust that the woman had for the family.

And yet, Gloria had been one of the few motherly figures in Blair's life during her childhood. Whenever Eleanor had been vacationing in southern Italy, or shopping within the beloved stores of England, Gloria had been sitting before Blair's newest elementary school teacher, evaluating the woman's skills and care for her students in her own manner before offering the woman her adored attention. Whenever Eleanor had traveled across the globe, leaving a handwritten note of her absence to a usually understanding Gloria, Gloria would be the one who would accompany Blair to her own modeling shoots, offering the girl consistent scoldings until the young prodigy had taken one single perfect picture. Blair could still remember her younger self, frustrated, angry, and prepared to burst into tears as Gloria shouted over the camera for Blair to pose a certain way, or, even more humiliating, reprimanding Blair on a job she felt could have been better. She had been hard, harder on Blair than Eleanor had ever been, and possibly could have been, but with her advice, no matter how it was delivered, Blair became one of the most successful models in the city, a feat in itself. And Blair would always be indebted to her mother's best friend, no matter how much she tried to satisfy Gloria's near-impossible standards.

It was well-known that Gloria had a way of gaining respect as soon as she stepped through the doors of a well-received institution. Her thin, tall figure gave way to immensely emerald eyes and a bob of fiery red hair resting elegantly against her shoulders, parted in the newest fashion trend of the season. Along with a slightly curved nose and tightly-pressed lips, and an expansive forehead that always seemed creased in thought, the elderly woman demanded attention to any who came along her way.

Even with age and a variety of fine wrinkles, Gloria Summers was not a woman to be toyed with.

And yet, Blair Waldorf had stood there, eyes glued to the scenery outside of the building, memories of her time with Chuck engulfing her mind.

He had stood at the foot of the building, kissed her softly with the flakes of falling snow serenading them, his arms unwilling to allow her passage into the building. When he had begun to walk down the sidewalk after consistent pleading from Blair, she had ran after him and grabbed at his face, kissing him with every ounce of her being, until they had both pulled away breathless, pecks of snow littered in her curls, her lips whispering a promise of three o'clock.

And he had grinned immensely, his lips meeting hers for a final time before her playful shove directed him to the sidewalk.

When she had nearly danced back into the building (quite reminiscent of Sleeping Beauty, after having met the prince in the forest), a few interns catching her behavior as a delirious smile was plastered upon her features, Gloria had appeared before her, her narrowed eyes peering over red-rimmed spectacles hanging off the end of her nose, foot tapping impatiently against the tiles below her, before she had thrust a file to Blair and stomped away in pure anger at Blair's obvious lateness, and most horribly, her lack of concern, considering she had _never_ been late her entire life.

Frustration glittered within the confines of the emerald of Gloria's orbs as she spoke. "I've been informing you about your newest shoot for the past ten minutes, and not _once _have you stopped staring out the window."

Blair smiled sheepily, tugging a strand behind her ear and keeping her eyes trained on her very dear friend, who was currently glaring at Blair over the rims of her glasses. "I'm sorry, Gloria. I've just had a lot on my mind."

No use to let Gloria know exactly what was drifting across Blair's mind. The woman didn't need to be aware of _everything, _now, did she?

Gloria's lips tightened, her feet stepping closer to Blair as she removed her glasses. Her eyes always seemed to demand more honesty when their true color was not inhibited by the red plastic of her spectacles.

And all lengths of honesty were crucial at this point.

"This doesn't have to do anything with that man you were kissing outside this building, now, does it?"

Her voice was low and dangeorus, as if questioning Blair to deny. Blair breathed deeply, pursing her lips in an effort to think of a proper response. She hadn't been aware that Gloria had seen their public display of affection, but she had assumed it to be possible, given that the woman was currently overseeing her mother's projects in the states, and would be privy to scenes happening just outside her building. The two did not gossip about Blair's love life; in fact, Gloria tended to show little to no interest in the newest man that would enter Blair's life. And it wasn't that she didn't care for the romanticism of Blair's aura; instead, as Gloria explained, she had never deemed those countless men as the one who would capture Blair's heart. And considering Gloria's taste of character was absolutely impeccable, it did not surprise Blair in the least when Gloria showed no shock over her latest break-up.

And yet, never before had a public display of affection made electricity course through her veins.

She felt her cheeks grow aflame with heat at the thought that her near-mother had caught sight of her and Chuck's furious kiss outside the building. It had been far more passionate than usual, and she wondered how wide Gloria's eyes had gotten at the display, considering that the woman was a near-advocate of 1950's virtues and customs.

When Gloria's brows lifted, urging Blair to speak, Blair caught sight of the ground before her explanation. She could deny, could continue to keep her relationship with Chuck a secret for the time being.

After all, one night together didn't qualify a boyfriend-girlfriend status, now, did it?

And yet, the larger part of her, and probably the more selfish aspect of her being, yearned to inform people of their status. She wanted to yell it out to the world, scream it out for all of New York City to hear, that the most handsome man that had ever walked its streets was _hers, _and no one else's. She wanted to inform all of her friends of his enviable courtship; she wanted to offer her eternal thanks to Serena for her introduction.

And yet, she wanted to be certain that he was okay with her declarations.

"His name's Chuck."

Well, a name was a somewhat worthy explanation.

Even if it was the most pathetic response to Gloria's fiery gaze.

Gloria nodded slowly, her eyes continuing to watch Blair closely. Seconds passed as the two women stood before each other, illuminated by the foreboding sunshine streaming through the windows, even amongst a New York chill.

When she seemed to deem that enough of a response, Gloria spoke. "And this... Chuck character," she said slowly, testing the name on her tongue. "He makes you happy?"

Blair opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it after a moment.

How could she explain the utter feeling of completion she felt whenever in his presence?

How could she explain the way he made her feel absolutely _stunning _whenever he looked at her, the way he murmured her name with such adoration that she could _melt_ into his arms?

How could she very well, indeed?

She smiled warmly, choosing to answer the question in the most honest of ways. "He makes me feel a lot of things, Gloria."

Gloria tightened her lips, nodding slowly, her eyes finally landing to the floor below them.

A long moment of silence passed before she spoke. "There are some pieces for you on the second floor. Go ahead and meet with Andrew."

Blair nodded slowly, her eyes catching sight of the expansive window as she left the room. She hadn't been expecting more from Gloria; after all, that was her pseudomother: brief, calm, and incredibly overbearing.

And Gloria remained in the room, her eyes still trained on the tiles below her, the ticking of the clock the only sound within the confines of the room. Her mind continued to replay the scene outside the building, of Blair running down to her stranger and turning him around quickly before gracing him with another kiss.

And although it was so fleeting, and certainly not enough to make a valid argument, she had seen those eyes.

She had seen those eyes before.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Eyes blissfully shut, Chuck took a long drag of the cigarette, releasing its contents as a wave of frigid air picked up speed in the near-deserted park. His body, physically exhausted from the multitude of emotions he had experienced these past few days, laid comfortably against the bench. Although the snow had significantly ended its frantic tirade that morning, the air was still engulfed with the chills of a New York winter. Legs spread out across the expanse of the darkened wood, one arm supported his head as the other continually brought the lit cigarette to his lips. The park was quiet and still in the late afternoon, occupying no visible inhabitants within its expanse.

Chuck relished in the silence. His thoughts proved to be far more compelling within the confines of an isolated environment. In fact, before he had boarded the plane off to New York, he had spent hours in his apartment, clearly and coherently organizing his plan to bewitch the Waldorf heiress. Silence provided him comfort; with comfort came confidence, and with confidence came a worthy venturing into his mind.

His brows furrowed as he heard a far-away voice make its presence known. He had been laying across that bench for hours now; any disturbance in said peace was most easily noted. Flicking the cigarette to the floor and crushing his shoe against the shortened stick, he sat up, hands running through his hair as he attempted to find the source of disruption into his thoughts.

His eyes caught sight of a figure near the trees, voice carrying with the wind as he muttered unintelligently to his cellphone. Chuck studied the unknown stranger, his eyes roaming over the character's leather jacket and age-old jeans. The man had light brown hair and a crooked nose even visible to him from afar. He looked obviously agitated, his hands diving into the pockets of his blue jeans as he balanced the cellular device against his shoulder, feet pacing across the snow-soaked grass below him.

Chuck turned away, his eyes catching sight of a large tree glittering with snow atop its lengthened branches. He hadn't wanted to draw unnecessary attention to himself; more probing questions would leave more room for error. And he was certainly not prepared for a subtle mistake in his pre-fabricated stories that would have Blair wondering.

Although New York City was a large expanse of people and words, the Upper East Side was a tight-knit group of gossiping society women and teenagers. He was sure that any indiscretion, or inaccurate and mismatched stories, would surely reach that collection of moneymakers. So, he kept his eyes casual, easily roaming over the expanse of the park as he lay back against the bench, his fingers diving into his pockets for much-desired warmth.

His ears had been trained in eavesdropping. When he heard the young man's exclaimed curse, and his eyes had darted over to the man to see him shove his cellular device into his pocket, he smirked inwardly. Although his reaction had been far more contained within Blair's library, the man's conversation clearly reminded him of his own failed attempt to end the entire assignment with his father. He was sure that the man was contemplating crushing his phone against the ground, just as he had the night before.

And yet, Chuck willed the furious pounding in his heart to cease as the stranger tugged his jacket closer to himself and trudged over to the bench beside him. He sat beside Chuck, breathing warmth into his hands and keeping his eyes set on the scene before him, leaning his weight against his knees. Chuck remained casual, his leg bouncing up and down against the other in a rhythmic fashion as he forced his eyes to keep their gaze to the fashionable trees glittered with blanketed snow.

"Cigarette on ya?"

Chuck's head immediately darted to the man beside him, catching sight of the tired, far-away blue-grey eyes of his newest companion. The man had handsome features, and Chuck assumed he was probably married as his glassy eyes gazed pleadingly. Offering the man a lengthened stick and a lighter, the man's hands nearly shook as he lit the stick, his eyes blissfully shutting as the glorious taste of tobacco filled his lungs.

"Fuckin' women and their fuckin' marriage proposals," the man cursed, his eyes still shut as he enjoyed the simple pleasure of nicotine. "They're fuckin' psychotic, that's what."

Chuck smirked at the man's exclamation, his nostrils catching the scent of alcohol permeating around the man's frame. He had obviously been drinking, judging by the gentle slurring of his words, and once again, he was not surprised by the utter freedom captured within the city.

"They fuck with our minds, and then get pissed when we wanna fuck 'em," the man slurred. "Well, fuck 'em, that's what I say!"

Chuck's expression was filled with amusement as he continued to watch the man's drunken logic. He was going to miss New York; the people here were absolutely unforgettable.

"Here's some advice, man," the stranger exclaimed, attempting to bring some control into his words. "When you find the one you love, get her the hell out of here!" he explained, his hands lifting upward in a dramatic gesture. "The women here get fuckin' psychotic _together_!"

_Get her the hell out of here._

_Get her the hell out of here._

Chuck's eyes widened at the man's words, his mind working incessantly at the logic that the man was providing.

_Get her the hell out of here._

His mouth slightly parted, he nearly jumped out in joy at the solution that the man was providing.

Why deal with his father's incessant calling when he could just... take Blair away? Get her away from the threat of her family's uncovering, and the surrounding gossiping community, and the threat of discovery of why he had initially come to New York. Get her away from the continuous missed calls his father would leave on his phone, the items he would surely get delivered, the threat of looking over his shoulder to make sure they were alone.

Get her away from the possibility of _losing her. _

In a perfected world, where there did not exist family vendettas, dangerous businessmen, and the possibility of destroying her, he could be free to love her.

_He could be free to love her._

But where could he take her? Where could he escape where he could buy time to convince his father he was unsuccessful, where her family wouldn't question her whereabouts, where there would exist no chance of discovery?

_"Paris is undoubtedly a beautiful city, Blair. But it's Venice you have to see before you die."_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Blair ran her hand through her perfected curls for a third time, already certain that the strands were classically falling down her back in splendid and enviable curls. Time and experience reminded her of such a worthwhile conclusion.

As well as the fact that she had ventured to the bathroom three times since she had arrived.

The cafe rested at a streetside corner near Chuck's hotel, and it had far beseeched her expectations. The tables were decorated in egg-shell white tableclothes with matching chairs. Various lights illuminated the expanse of the dining area, along with some modern pieces scattered in the area, and classical music gently pleased her ears as she sat waiting at a table set for two. Thankfully, when she had arrived, the restaurant hadn't been nearly as crowded as it should have been, so finding a table near the large expansive windows had been simple and waitless. She was extremely pleased with Chuck's choice of location; as she had passed through the desert aisle, the chocolate eclaires had looked so tantalizing that they had nearly called out for a quick taste.

Her eyes glanced at the clock hanging against the wall. She had been sitting in the cafe for nearly 40 minutes; it was now three-thirty, and Chuck hadn't arrived at the scene. It probably wouldn't have bothered Blair as intensely if the man two tables ahead of her wasn't attempting to catch eyes with her, or smile a thousand-watt smile that probably would have worked with any other woman. Blair nearly cringed at the man's wide smile; didn't men know that a smirk or a little light in the eyes was far more sexy and appealing than a full on kid-in-a-candy-store smile?

Then again, after comparing anything to the courtship of Chuck, nothing really could please her.

Her mind attempted to focus on any other object; she ran her hands over the blue skirt and white stockings, crossing her legs demurely as her fingers drummed against the countertop. Just as the man rose from his seat after leaving a generous tip (probably for her benefit, she concluded), and she was about to dart out of that cafe as quick as her Jimmy Choos would carry her, Chuck entered the cafe doors, his breath heavy and labored as he caught sight of Blair rising from her seat.

With quick, determined strides, he stalked over to her, grabbed her at her waist, and pressed his lips against hers, fingers digging into the fabric of her blue skirt.

Blair's surprised expression didn't falter the kiss; by the time she pulled away, they were both gasping for air, and she was slightly dazed from the intensity of their encounter.

"Wow," she exclaimed with a breathless sigh, ears unaware of the gossiping patrons already discussing the man who had stomped over to a woman and thrust one of the heaviest kisses they had ever seen upon her. Chuck smiled at her expression and pulled out two slips of paper from his pocket, planted them directly before her eyes, unwilling to allow her time to recover from their encounter.

Her eyes went from his to slightly focus on the words printed on the paper before her orbs.

And widened eyes returned back to his.

"Chuck..." she spoke quietly, her incredulity thrilling him to his core. "Chuck, that's a plane ticket to Venice with my name on it."

Chuck smirked classically, planting the second piece of paper before her gaze.

"And that's a plane ticket to Venice with _your _name on it."

Her voice was laced with disbelief and shock, and yet, he couldn't seem to will the smirk on his face to disappear.

Finally, he spoke when he was sure she had had enough time to wonder. "I had to wait in line on the phone for _hours _to call my office," he explained, unwilling to allow her to believe he had been late to their lunch date for the simplicities of time. "But I got the plane."

Her shocked eyes continued to stare at his before she smiled, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and sat atop the chair to will her shaking legs to relax. Chuck joined her, placing the tickets atop the table as he faced her eyes.

"Of course, the weather isn't the best it can be," he spoke, his voice animated and quick, "and I'm sure there are other places you could suggest, but I wouldn't take you if I knew you weren't going to love it. The gelato is unforgettable; there's a little place right by our hotel that sells the best fresh gelato in the country. It's light, rich, and creamy all at the same time, and it's busy all the time, and the tourists inhabit the area, take pictures and butcher the language, but you'll be with me, and pretty soon, you'll pick up as much Italian as you can, because you're clever like that. And I can show you that scene in your painting; hell, I'll take you to all the damn museums in the country, there's literally one on every street corner and wherever you go, and the locals there are so willing to talk about art; it's their history and their pride and their joy in life. And you can sit in a gondola at night, when there's a section of the city that gets so quiet late at night that all you can hear is the slow water moving below you and nothing else. And I can picture you sitting in a gondola, and the white of your skin will shine against the blue of the water, and I'll sit right beside you and stay quiet so you can enjoy the silence, or if you want we can talk about what we did that day and who we met and what we saw and what we learned, and you'll love the fireworks in the city square because it's so alive, and the people are alive and they sing and dance and they'll show you the moon and the stars and whatever you want because you're Blair, and you say the word, and I'll have it delivered to you in a heartbeat."

He hadn't planned on rambling, but as soon as he had caught sight of her incredulous expression, the words had just sped out of his mouth. Blair watched him take a heavy breath after his speech, her eyes soft and warm upon his form as he gazed at her for a response. She was sure her heart was at the bottom of her chest as she sighed heavily, avoiding his eyes.

"Chuck..." she murmured, taking a moment of silence before continuing. "This is a beautiful gesture, and I would take it in a heartbeat, but..."

She found she couldn't continue. He had been looking at her with such adoration, and creating a heartfelt canvas of the time they would spend in one of the most romantic cities in the world, that she felt that she herself couldn't understand why she _herself_ was declining it.

Chuck nodded slowly, his words slow and pointed. "You have work."

She glanced back at his eyes, unwilling to confront the fact that the light she had seen in them before, right before he had kissed her, had dimmed out, and all that was left was a dull brown hazel. "If it was any other time in my life..."

Chuck pursed his lips, nodding slowly and glancing back at the tickets atop the table. Silence passed as the two stared at the slips of paper, evidence of one of the most romantic and one of the most insane acts a man had ever performed for her.

"I just have this huge shoot coming up, and I've got only a few days to really step up my performance. This is one of the largest accounts in the country. My mother's counting on me."

Chuck scoffed at her words, his eyes staring outside the expansive window by his side. "I knew it."

Her eyes narrowed at his response and the callous way with which he had spoken. "You knew what?"

He turned back to her, his eyes dark and dangerous.

He knew it was a low blow, and she would react with the harshest of glares, and it certainly wasn't the way to entice her to accompany him. In fact, his mind was commanding him to pause his train of thought, retrieve the tickets, have lunch with her, and maintain some dignity in the entire operation.

And yet, logistics had not aided him for a long time.

The way she had so easily dismissed the offer with the most pathetic of excuses made him feel many emotions. Here he was, offering her an exclusive romantic getaway to Italy, and her only response was _Sorry, maybe next time._

"You're afraid of love."

The moment he had said it, he yearned to take it back. Sure, he knew all about her romantic history from hours of research at the library, and he certainly couldn't be deemed an expert in her love life.

And yet, how could she say no after all they had shared?

She pulled back a bit, her eyes widened and shock coursing through her veins as her voice grew louder. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

And yet, the accusatory tone with which he spoke gave him power.

"It's why you were so quick to accuse me of hurting you that one night. You don't believe in love, so as soon as you grew suspicious, you took it. That's why you're so eager to throw your work excuse at me. You can't handle what could happen between us."

The way he spoke so slowly and deliberately, eyes meeting hers, as if challenging her to deny, made enraged chocolate eyes glared back at him.

"I'm not afraid of love! I've been in love, I'll have you know!"

His eyes showed amusement as he glared back. He knew every _one_ of her serious boyfriends, and none of them could be deemed as her one and only. In fact, each one was worse than the next. "Oh really? Who?"

She leaned back against her chair, her voice laced with fake superiority. "I was in love in high school. A wonderful guy named Nate."

Chuck scoffed at her response. The boy's name had come up a few times in the society pages, but he wasn't too much of a celebrity anymore in the Upper East Side since moving away a few years ago. "Give me a break, Blair. High school doesn't count."

Blair shook her head at him, growing angrier by the second. The way he had just so easily dismissed what she had with Nate...

Just who did he think he was, believing he knew all about her love life and everything that had happened in her past?

"You don't even _know _me, Chuck. A few weeks together doesn't constitute any sort of well-based opinion."

Chuck's eyes narrowed at her form. "You want to prove I don't know you?" he exclaimed, moving closer until he was merely a few inches from her face. "Come with me to Venice."

Breathing harshly, Blair kept her enraged eyes locked with his, unwilling to prove to him that he could dictate the course of their conversation.

But even so, she couldn't deny his beauty.

"Take your ticket. I'll be waiting for you at the airport tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. If you show up, we'll go together," he explained, his words spoken clearly and slowly. "If not, then I wish you luck in your shoot, and everything else you venture into in your life."

And with that, Chuck rose from his seat, tucked his plane ticket into the inside lapel of his jacket, and departed from the restaurant.

Leaving an enraged Blair staring at the ticket before her eyes.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

As such, I'm usually insane about editing, but I gave myself a break this time :) Please let me know of any serious errors :)

As always, reviews are **adored**!

The CB adventure has just begun :) Next chapter should be posted within a week or two.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy your weekend!


	22. Chapter 22: Black Ring

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **As always, I am astounded by the feedback on this story. I can remember posting the first chapter to this story, and being so absolutely apprehensive about how it would be received. Now, many months after that original posting, I am still in love with this couple as much as the day that I saw them on screen together for the first time. This is, to date, the longest I have ever stuck to a multi-chapter fic. I have no words to express how much I love reviewers and alerters :) It is your words and interest that keep me going.

**Chapter 22: Black Ring**

_"Faraway dreams bring,_

_Days of life with you,_

_All my hope screams,_

_From this dark place."_

_Michal Towber, "Forsaken"_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The hotel room seemed utterly vacated.

The bed had been properly folded, the crisp sheets dug deep into the ends of the mattress by skilled and frail fingers, a courtesy of the high-end housekeeping of the Benjamin. The curtains had been brought together, allowing no light from the New York night life to venture into the room. The surfaces of the desk and nightstand sported glistening tops from furious dusting and cleaning. The carpet left no markings of late night cigarette ashes fallen haphazardly atop the fibers. The scotch that had been a near permanent addition to the room had been ushered away to the hotel's kitchen. The complimentary chocolates that were usually left atop the desk for a parting guest had been gently laid across the wood.

The hotel room seemed utterly vacated, sole for a lone occupant staring deep at his reflection in the mirror of the dark bathroom.

Chuck licked his lips, his hands running through his hair for a final time as he took in the dark trousers and dark wool coat he had placed over his frame, his signature scarf of a patterned fashion adding a bit of desperate color to his sullen wardrobe. His leather carry-on stood right beside him, only a few shirts and pants tossed into the confines of the suitcase in a somewhat mindless manner. His Armani suits and fashion brands he had brought with him had been left within the closet of his hotel room.

He had decided that the extra weight was doubtlessly unnecessary.

Chuck was sure that the next occupant of this room would find a very pleasant surprise left by a very apathetic character who found that an obsession with fashion surely meant nothing now.

How could it, when his mind was overwhelmed by images of Blair Waldorf?

How could he decide which of his belongings he would leave in this majestic city, when all he could see was Blair's swollen lips after they had shared one of the most passionate kisses of his life in view of the gossiping public?

Chuck gulped soundly, his eyes shutting as he recalled the infernal fire that had been radiating off of Blair as he had placed the tickets before her gaze and sauntered out of the cafe. The answer had seemed simple enough to him; he was sure he would find her waiting presence at the Bass jet in a couple of hours, her eyes bright and full of excitement, and a suitcase of her belongings standing beside her.

And then, he would have shown her one of the _many_ benefits of a private airplane to themselves.

He had been so confident then, so absolutely _convinced _that she would accompany him on this lifetime opportunity.

How could she not, after the way he had held her the previous night, his arms enclosing her in his own protection, unwilling to live another moment without her presence?

And yet, when he had neared the entrance to his hotel room, his steps became less light and more heavy, and his mind began to fully unravel the complexities of what he had done with a horrifying realization.

By the time he had arrived at his hotel room, he had been desperate and so willing to run to her apartment, grasp at her legs, and _plead _with her to never leave his side, _beg _her to follow him with his arms so tightly encircled around her form.

But instead, he had gotten blissfully _hammered_, had passed out on the sheets of his bed, and woken up a few hours later with a headache that he was sure he would never escape.

And finally, it was 2 AM, and the hangover cure he had prided himself upon had done its job so beautifully well.

He had awoken, prepared his blackened liquid, showered, and had the maids come up and clean before he checked out. Every time thoughts of Blair Waldorf came to his mind, he would dismiss her impending treachery on his conscious state and would force himself to focus on what exactly he was willing to take with him to Venice.

After having resigned himself to buy whatever he needed in the country when the sensation of his fingers running through Blair's silken hair would not leave him, he had stood before his mirror and approved his appearance, unwilling to realize that there did exist a possibility, no matter how _small, _that Blair wouldn't show up at the jet.

When said realization refused to leave him, a painful aching in his chest began, and would not recede.

His eyes glanced over to the sole device that had been left atop the porcelain sink.

Slowly, his fingers reached out for the black circular ring that had been sent over from his father from Paris. It had been following the morning after he and Blair's first night out together, a morning that Chuck vaguely remembered was a sole celebration of the wonders of the amber of scotch, when his mind refused to forget the way the pearls had rested gracefully against the small of Blair's back, in a dress she had worn to drive Chuck _mad _with desire.

It was a listening device that Chuck knew well; so easily hidden, his father had sent it over with a trusted business associate as a means for Chuck to learn more about Blair Waldorf's life. It was another strategy to discover something that would destroy their family; vaguely, Chuck realized it to be a _catalyst_ for the impending treachery to be released.

And yet, Chuck had found that he had dimissed any opportunity for placing the device. Every time he had ventured out to see Blair, or leave his hotel room, for any matter, he had put aside the planting of the device, instead demanding to himself that the next time he left room, he would stop off at Blair's home.

It would have been so easy; Dorota would have never been suspicious if Chuck had arrived at Blair's apartment during the day with a bouquet of roses he had decided would look absolutely _splendid _at the glass table in her living room. He could have sauntered into the room, placed the roses atop the glass while, similtaneously, pressing the ring at the base of the leather couch he had grown to cherish.

It would have been the easiest feat, to date.

Yet, now that he allowed his mind to focus back on all those times when he had dismissed the action for later, he scoffed to himself, a hint of self-discovery extending to him a bit of ironic amusement.

He couldn't have invaded Blair's privacy so deceitfully. His mind had unconsciously refused to throw one more act of deception in the entire game, opposing one more aspect of _dishonesty _into their entire encounter.

As if the entirety of it meant more than an _assignment._

Chuck continued to glare at the device, the black ring of plastic left unstill atop the hardened surface.

Suddenly, Chuck found it to be far more alluring than ever before.

With a skilled hand, Chuck grasped at the material, dropped it to the tiles beneath him, and planted his foot atop the device.

The sickening crack of the plastic under his leather shoes brought a loathsome smile to his face.

Chuck left the remains of the listening device atop the tiles, his form wandering over to the bed in the room, eyes glancing over to the digital clock, and noting the time as 2:10 AM.

He dropped his form atop the bed, the only sounds in the room the countless blaring horns of New York taxicabs that he would surely grow to miss.

Now all he had to do was wait.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

A deep, exhausting sigh escaped Blair as she tugged her silken robe tighter to her body, her form striding over to the balcony door and closing the glass contraption in a slight effort to shield her apartment away from the chills of a lengthy winter. Dorota had been given the day off, leaving the apartment luxuriously clean, tidy, and void of any souls except herself. On any other day, it would have pleased Blair; nothing gave way to much-deserved relaxation than Chinese take-out, an Audrey marathon, and a marvelous bubble bath before retiring to bed. The occurences were rare, but certainly invited.

And yet, Blair found that the pleasures that had given her satisfaction before now seemed oddly lacking in the luster she had created for them after years of practice.

Instead of Chinese take-out, her appetite craved for a few plump blueberries; instead of worshipping Audrey's film successes, she yearned to worship the beauty of New York city atop a darkened marble balcony overlooking its majestic splendor.

And, instead of lounging in her bathtub alone, head leaning back against the porcelain surface as soothing tunes seeped out from the late-night radio station, Blair yearned for another's most cherished company to join her amongst the bubbles.

Blair shut her eyes at the blatant realization, her mind falling back to the proposal she had been attempting to force out of its confines. But, whenever she tried to will herself to forget the entirety of the ultimatum and deem the past few days as a lovely passage of time, a flash of Chuck's hurt features would appear before her eyes.

The way his eyes had lost the brightness that had engulfed their color, instead falling to a dull hazel, made Blair wince slightly. The way he had disregarded her so coldly, keeping his gaze trained on the scenery beside him instead of keeping it trained on her, made her want to lash out at him in his blatant disrespect for decency.

And the way he had risen up with so much confidence and debonair charm, leaving her with one of the most wearying decisions of her life in the tangibility of airplane tickets, made her want to shove him into a corner and prove how very _unafraid _of love she was.

She was sure he would be left _stunned_ by her brazen attitude towards the concept.

But instead, she had retreated back to her home with an empty stomach, a sinking feeling in her chest, and painfully throbbing feet, threw herself against the bed and willed the exhaustion of the past few days to overcome her most eager body. And when she had awoken at midnight, the numerous lights of nightlife New York streaming in through her sheer curtains, she had heated up a bowl of Dorota's tortellini broth, curled up on the couch that gave way to the most scandalous imprints of their time together, and had her mind weave through the tracks of the ultimatum he had laid out for her.

Of course, it was right of her to decline. Blair was a practiced decision-maker; after much thought and recollection, she realized that her refusal to partake in such a complete lack of responsibility was rightful indeed. Chuck was asking for a very heavy commitment at one of the highest points in her career; he should have known that she would refuse his offer. After all, hadn't he seen how important modeling was to her? When he had watched her grimace slightly and put on a facade whilst the man above her was nearly _groping _her body with no shame, didn't he see how very dedicated she was to her job?

How devoted she was to making sure her mother's lifelong ambition wouldn't be tossed away by an unappreciative daughter?

Anyways, who knew when the duo would return, and how much she would _risk_ by disappearing from the country for an unknown amount of time. Serena would be baffled, her mother would be ashamed, and Gloria would be _furious; _Blair was sure that the normal fire shade of her hair wouldn't compare to the redness of Gloria's face if she found out that Blair was taking an impromptu vacation with a foreign lover.

Blair was sure that she would be able to hear her shrieks from the highest rooftop in Italy.

So, essentially, it wasn't only she herself declining the offer. Gloria would be outraged and would deem it as the apocalypse; Serena would be stunned and curious as to the utter ferocity of her quick departure, and her mother would order Blair back from whatever harem she had constructed for herself to return for the enhancement of her company.

And yet, a small part of her, the most miniscule portion of her soul (a part she was sure inhabited less than a _tiny_ portion of her being, for how could it be so _strong?)_ had ventured into fantasies of a romantic getaway with Chuck.

She had never been to Italy before; as a child, she had ventured with her mother during one of their many trips together, but it had been so long ago that Blair couldn't remember a slight thing. She had traveled to England, Russia, Australia, and many other countries in Asia for her modeling career, but never before had she been _handed_ the opportunity to visit the most historically plausible site in the world.

And here she was, having been offered a chance to travel its expanse with one of the most charming men she had ever met, and she was declining it with a heavy heart.

Blair shook her head slowly, willing the fiery images that seeped into her mind to disappear. She could envision herself and Chuck sitting in a gondola, hands linked and her head resting against his shoulder as they wandered through the more quieter parts of the city, the sound of the flowing water the only rhythm they could muster. Another image of her arms wrapped tight around Chuck's neck as she sat atop his lap in a white sundress and straw hat, their forms lazily lounging at an Italian cafe in the late afternoon sun, came to her mind.

And a final image of their lips locked in a caress during an Italian night life scene overwhelmed her senses.

And yet, after a series of images made their unrelenting presence known, Blair willed her conscious that she had done the right thing; refusing Chuck's offer was protecting her job, and essentially, herself, in the process. And if he couldn't understand that, then maybe it was best that they ended their relationship. If he couldn't understand _why _she couldn't accept, then how could he welcome one of the most important things in her life?

Blair ignored the aching in her heart at the final thought.

Deeming the night as particulary too thoughtfulsome, she rose from her seat atop the couch, prepared to make one of Dorota's special herbal teas, when a soft knocking interrupted her plan.

Brows furrowed, Blair glanced at the clock, noting the time as two in the morning. She hadn't been expecting Serena; the blonde had voiced her concerns with Blair over Dan's sudden lack of sexual interest and had informed a slightly disgusted Blair of her plans to seduce the Brooklynite.

As soon as the discussion had turned to chains and whips, the call had ended.

Who would be knocking at her door in the middle of the night, let alone so softly that she could have barely heard it if she wasn't alone?

When the knocking continued, and the uninvited guest seemed unwilling to leave, Blair rushed over to the door, peeking in through the hole to gaze at her newest intruder.

When she saw a head of dark hair and a tall body, she smiled unconciously, tugging the door open. She was sure she could explain the expanse of the entire situation to him if given the time and his ever-so-endearing listening ear. She would make him understand; she would never want to deem the time at the cafe as their final moment.

A part of her realized that they were worth _far_ more than that.

However, instead of the warm caramel eyes she had been so desperate to see, a pair of emerald green orbs stared back at her, the color washed with a bit of sadness and dullness.

"Hello, Blair."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The duo sat in silence, forms facing each other at the couches in the living room. There existed no words, no dialogue, the only sound in the abandoned apartment the sole ticking of the enlarged grandfather clock placed beside the balcony door. Blair tugged her robe closer to her form in an attempt to shield any displayed skin from his eyes, cursing herself for choosing to wear such a silken fabric before the creature sitting across from her. Why couldn't she have worn a pair of aged cotton pajamas?

She refused to meet his gaze. Her eyes were kept focused atop the fibers of the carpet below her bare feet, unwilling to meet his eyes and offer him any sort of decency in the entire encounter.

If she was to face his eyes, she would be offering him the acknowledgement of his human dignity, and she surely wasn't about to bestow him with that daunting privilege.

He had attempted to take hers, after all.

"Thank you for letting me in," EJ exclaimed, his voice deep and penetrating against the silence. Inwardly, she was grateful that he had realized that he himself would have to initiate the conversation. If he had expected her to question his presence as the opening statement, she wouldn't have been able to hide her absolute disgust.

"I wouldn't have allowed _myself_ in if I was you."

Blair fought the urge to roll her eyes at his statement, but instead, kept her gaze locked with the plush material of the carpet below her. Did he really think _pity_ was the way to downplay what he had nearly done to her?

The man deserved a deep psychological analysis if he thought that she would deem that entire night as merely a _pitiful_ attempt at character.

But instead, she remained silent.

Licking his lips, EJ kept his focus on the glass table before him, hands clasped together and elbows sitting atop his knees as he leaned his weight forward. His prolonged silence was driving Blair insane; the man had showed up at _her_ door in the middle of the night, and she wasn't about to patiently sit aside and feign interest whilst he worked up the courage to explain what he had done.

Finally, he spoke. "I'm not sure if you remember every exact detail of that night, or what happened..."

Blair shuddered at the thought, her throat closing up at his words. The man's claim nearly made her cry out in frustration; how could she have forgotten what he had done to her?

Even with the flashes and frozen images, she wanted to strangle him for his filthy nature.

In fact, she was sure that if she _had _remembered the entirety of the moment, EJ wouldn't be sitting before her in one single piece.

The various parts of his body would be scattered throughout the expanse of her beloved city.

His eyes, which had been locked with the glass table between them, finally rose up and met her gaze.

"But I remember what happened."

And Blair nearly leapt back at the utter remorse she saw in his orbs. The calculating and deceitful EJ that she had always known was suddenly replaced with a very vulnerable man overwhelmed with guilt. His expression was sullen, and his hands seemed to be unconsciously shaking. Blair gulped at the intensity of his stance; it was the most emotion she had ever seen displayed by the man before her. Even when they had been together, he never seemed to be so regretful for any sort of action he had partaken in.

Once, when he had told her with absolute glee how he had aided his father in narrowing the size of their advertising section by laying off a few workers, she had been so absolutely disgusted by the joy she had seen reflected in the darkened emerald of his eyes. It had made her hate him for so long; how could a man take so much sick pleasure in the suffering of others?

"And I'm so sorry for hurting you."

And yet, the way he was staring at her in such an apologetic manner made her brows furrow in confusion. He had been stripped down; bared of all his defenses and rich breeding that all that stood before her was a man so very_... sad. _

"That night..." he continued, his eyes still sadly locked with hers. "I kept seeing you with Chuck, how you had looked so at peace with him in Victrola." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before murmuring. "And I was so _jealous; _you looked so beautiful at the bar that night, so happy, and I just..." he spoke quietly, his voice losing control towards the end of his explanation. "I just thought I had to take what was rightfully mine."

Widened chocolate eyes stared back at him as he shifted his attention away from the burning gaze and returned his focus back to the glass table before him.

"I had the bartender slip you something while you had gone to the bathroom," he said, hands clenching and unclenching under the power of his troubled eyes. "It was so easy; by the time you had gotten up to leave, you felt the drug and fell unconscious."

Blair's breathing grew heavy and deep, her chest falling and rising as she listened to his confession. Her eyes narrowed, lips set in a thin line as the reality of what he had attempted to do fell atop her once again, and anger filled her entire soul.

Although he had just offered her his most afflicted expression, those haunted green eyes that had stared back at her as she struggled underneath him were slowly starting to emerge.

"I don't really know what happened after that," he spoke, voice still grasping to a rasped tone. "I remember bringing you to some dirty room in a seedy bar, and then it all goes to a black screen."

Blair nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on his figure.

"But I can guess what I tried to do."

Drawing her lips inward, Blair nodded once again, unwilling to speak. She would allow him to voice his disgusting mistake.

Listening to his confession was _generous_ from her side.

Silence followed after. Blair sat frozen in her seat, her limbs weak and unable to support her weight. Such a silence allowed her to seep in the intensity of EJ's confession; it was an attempt, and a somewhat unworthy one at that, but there he sat before her, his eyes ghosted and bearing a tension that even she could not begin to recognize.

So, instead, after what she deemed months of silence, she allowed her voice to penetrate the room.

"I appreciate your visit, EJ," she began, her words slow and deliberate as she chose them carefully, keeping her eyes trained on the fibers of the carpet. "And your confession seems whole and genuine."

EJ's eyes shot up from the table and lifted to hers, a sketch of hope and renewal surfacing atop the emerald color. He looked so very helpless, so very desperate for her approval that a part of her desperately wanted to give him peace.

And yet, the larger part of her spoke.

"But I think it's going to take some time for me to even _begin_ to forgive you."

EJ's eyes dulled slightly, and the hopeful grin that had begun to form on his face quickly disappeared, leaving him slightly disappointed and distraught. He nodded slowly, pressing his lips to a thin line and returning his eyes back to the glass table.

"You know," he began, his voice carrying on a tiny lightness to it that gained her full attention. He had been speaking with such remorse and dread that this small bit of brightness to his voice made her curious. "You really should thank Chuck."

He allowed some silence before continuing, his eyes continuing to find the glass table incredibly appealing.

"Who knows what I would have done if he hadn't burst into the room."

Blair's brows furrowed slightly as EJ's words came together. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, finally licking her lips and speaking in a tone of confusion.

"I thought you said you didn't remember what happened."

EJ's eyes shot back up to hers, sensing the suspicion and the inquisitive spirit she so easily maintained. She saw him tense immediately; the brightness that he seemed to have taken grasp of shattered away, leaving him with an expression that was oddly familiar to that of a child having been caught sneaking into his mother's room.

It perturbed her, indeed. She found she was desperate to delve into the core of this newfound conclusion.

"How did you know it was Chuck who saved me?"

EJ licked his lips, taking a deep breath and willing the words he had so desperately wanted to avoid from resurfacing. When he found that she was unwilling to let this slip-up pass, her eyes continuing to lock with his, he managed to allow his voice to break the silence.

"He didn't want me to tell you, Blair..."

Blair's eyes narrowed, her body leaning forward as she glared at EJ.

This she could handle; the absolute feeling of being kept in the dark for so long, and grasping at the reigns of truth with such a tightness that it frightened the man before her.

"What didn't he want you to tell me?"

EJ gulped soundly, sensing the utter anger that was emanating off the woman before him in waves. He captured his bottom lip between his teeth, searching the confines of his brain for any sort of response that would have pleased her, or set aside the entire issue that had just been brought up. He mentally cursed himself for bringing Chuck into the entire issue; had he just left it where she had been satisfied, he would have left her apartment with a slightly lighter conscience.

And a slightly larger pocket.

And yet, he felt that he owed the woman before him _some _sort of dignity. Hadn't he attempted to rob her of it so easily once before? And now, when he was looking to offer it back, would he lie to her, yet _again_, to save his own soul?

He had come here, of his own volition, to confront the most hateful thing he had ever done to his life, and leave with an inner peace he was sure he wouldn't have achieved without coming to see her.

And lying to her seemed the most hypocritical thing he could ever do.

Even though he was sure that it was the most idiotic thing he had ever done in his life, he was sure it would be one of the most sincere things he had ever done.

And that seemed enough to offer Blair the entire truth.

"Chuck came to see me the afternoon after that day," he explained, his eyes returning to meet her chocolate color. "He told me he'd take care of my father's debt with that Ethiopian banker if I was to leave the country and never see you again."

All the air swept out of Blair's lungs. EJ's words continued to repeat in her mind, the mantra of Chuck's actions a never-ending melody she was desperate to quell.

She struggled to breathe, the action coming out long and uncontrolled, as EJ continued to speak, ever unaware of the turmoil of emotions within her.

"He gave me an envelope of money, a first-class ticket to Europe, and one hell of a left fist," EJ murmured, mind moving back to the pain that still lingered deep within his abdomen. "And I told him I'd leave to Europe and never come back."

EJ gulped once again. "He said he'd know the minute I stepped back in town."

Blair's refocused her attention on EJ's words, lips thinning together as he spoke.

"But I couldn't leave without apologizing," he pleaded, his eyes locking with hers once again. "I couldn't get on that plane the way things had ended between us."

Blair forced herself to nod slowly, her form rising upward as she stared back down at EJ.

"And I thank you for that," she responded quietly, her voice taking on a regal tone.

"But I think you should leave."

EJ continued to stare fixedly at her, a few seconds of silence following Blair's demand. Finally, when she seemed unwilling to hear any more from him, he nodded slowly, rising up to his feet and shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way out of his apartment, and out of Blair's life, forever.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Chuck rubbed the material of his leather gloves together, willing some much-adored heat to seep into his skin. Tough winds brought about a frigidness that he couldn't seem to escape; his hair was flying in all directions, and he was breathing into his hands to bring some warmth back to his body. Overlooking the dark pavement of the runway before the plane, Chuck glanced back at his watch for the fiftieth time in three minutes.

8:57 AM.

His crew had orders to depart from New York City at exactly 9:00 AM; combined with the stinginess of the airport security and a relatively clear sky, he was sure that there would exist no delay in their departure.

His heart sank at the realization.

Gulping soundly, Chuck scoured the expanse of the runway, a haunting feeling overwhelming his form as the area remained relatively still. His foot began to tap against the pavement unconsciously; the roar of the jet behind him and the unrelenting cold were starting to make him anxious.

A short, petite man of a balding status appeared at Chuck's side. "Sir, the crew has asked me to inform you that we will be departing in exactly two minutes. They have suggested you take your seat."

Chuck shut his eyes at the man's words. He offered a moment of thought before speaking. "We can't delay the plane for a few more minutes."

It wasn't a question; rather, a hardened statement. It was spoken with such a resignation that the elder man's lips turned downward slightly.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Bass. The flight plan specifically states our departure at eight o'clock." Then, with a somewhat annoyed tone, the man continued. "You know how aiport security can get."

Chuck swallowed deeply, nodding quickly at the man's words. His eyes revealed their color and found, once again, the dark pavement empty.

He, the crew, and the jet, were the sole occupants of the earth for miles.

She wasn't coming.

"Also, sir," the man spoke, his voice disrupting the silence that had overtaken his superior's stance. "The crew would like to know; will this be a one way flight, or a round trip?"

Chuck inhaled deeply, his lungs enjoying the sensation of the chilly air deep within their structures. His voice came out in a slender rasp.

"One way."

The elder man nodded accordingly, turning back to catch a signal from the head pilot. "It's time, sir."

As the man returned back to the jet, Chuck found his feet unwilling to leave the ground beneath him. Taking one last final glance at the land that had given him so much opportunity, Chuck found himself slightly nostalgic. He knew that he would never return to New York City ever again; too much would haunt him here, too many remembrances of _her. _His eyes memorized the atmosphere of America; it would never be forgotten, indeed.

As a wind picked up speed and brushed against his cheek, ruffling his hair, Chuck's eyes fluttered shut as the sensation of a gentle butterfly wing against his skin appeared.

"Goodbye, Blair," he murmured against the wind, his silent farewell disappearing with the force of the frosty air, and, in his hopes, traveling to the one it was intended for.

Turning abruptly, he began his trek to the jet, hands shoved into his pockets and head lowered slightly, when the sound of a familiar voice interrupted the roar of the engine.

Turning slightly, his eyes widened immensely as a dark vehicle soared across the runway and made an abrupt stop, the car lurching forward with the force of the halt.

And then he saw her.

A wide-eyed Blair Waldorf with flying hair, reddened lips, and two suitcases dragging behind her as she met his eyes.

And she was in his arms before he could even process the miracle.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter should be up in the week or two, and will be slightly longer than usual :)

Thanks for reading! As always, if you want to have me squealing with joy and positively _running _to get the next chapter out, you'll press that nice little button at the end of the screen and review :)

Have a great week!


	23. Chapter 23: White, Willing, and Nude

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note: **Hello, all, remember me? I must say, to begin, that I am **extremely** sorry for the lengthy wait. Exams, break, and real life in general just caught up with me by the end of the year. However, I do hope that a 10,000 word chapter will make up for the wait :) I must have written about 100 drafts to this chapter, but none of them seemed to please me, and I definitely did not want to disappoint my lovely readers :) I also must have worked on the last scene for weeks now, and I think you'll understand why when you read it ;) I'd also love to thank my lovely alerters and reviewers; you make the late-night writing absolutely worth it :) I hope that the next update will come soon, especially since we've still got so much to tell for Chuck and Blair. Also, I wanted to point out how much I absolutely **adored **the last episode! Having Bart once again grace our screens really helped in churning this chapter out, especially since the Bart we saw so closely resembles the cold and calculating one that has been characterized in this fic. I do hope we see some more angsty Chuck and Bart in the near future, especially since their story is so complex and riveting to hear. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy and leave a note :)

**Chapter 23: White, Willing, and Nude**

_"Now that I have found you,_

_In the coolth of your evening smile,_

_The shade of your parasol,_

_And your love flows through me,_

_Though I drink at your pool,_

_I burn for you."_

_Sting, "I Burn For You_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

A warm smile made its way to Blair's lips as she gazed over at Chuck, his form returning from the kitchen, two glasses of chilled champagne held easily within his hands. The two had shed their coats within the heated airplane, and the flight was currently coasting over at a leisure pace. Even his manic aid had managed to doze off in his seat moments before, the grainy pages of the _New York Times_ resting easily over his lap, head tipped back against the seat, as they rode effortlessly over the clouds.

He returned with a charming smirk, offering the liquid to an acquiescent Blair before settling beside her in his seat. The plane had taken off about twenty minutes ago, and his ever eager help had informed the duo when it was appropriate for the two to move around the cabin.

The two hadn't spoken much since the flight had begun. When she had launched into his arms in a flurry of chocolate silk and frigid limbs, her face buried deep within his neck, his eyes had blissfully slid shut as he murmured a silent whisper of gratitude to the dancing breeze around their forms, in a silent ode to the heavenly presence that had brought them together. When he had opened his eyes and she had pulled away from him, her arms still crossed at his neck, he was rewarded with the sight of her cherry-tinted cheeks and the blood-stained color of her lips, her hair a wondrous mess surrounding her face as a lightness colored her burnt orbs. He had lifted his palms and pressed them against her cheekbones, the frosted feeling seeping deep within his skin as he gazed at her with absolute grattitude.

She had smiled back at him, showcasing the pearly whites of her teeth so easily contrasted with the scarlet of her lips, and had hurled herself back against him, arms tight and unwilling to bid release.

He hadn't even had time to mutter anything of logical sense to her, though he was sure that if he _had_ been given the opportunity, his own disbelief would have rendered him useless. The elderly, aging man of a few moments ago had called out from the plane for the last traveling companion, his suit jacket flying against a particularly forceful bit of wind. Chuck had nodded effortlessly at the man, and had directed the portly character to pick up Blair's bags that had been left standing in the middle of the runway. The two, with the sensation of frozen currents biting at their ears, had boarded the plane in a flurry of mussed hair and jackets, and had sat through the takeoff without uttering a single word.

Chuck had felt the icy chill of Blair's hand as he rested his particularly warmed one atop hers, his eyes refusing to meet her ghosted face as the plane had prepared for takeoff. He knew that she had a slight fear of flying; it was one of those pieces of seemingly useless information he had discovered during one of his numerous evenings at that fated library. However, he hadn't wanted to embarrass the heiress by pinpointing that exact fear she had; instead, his eyes had coasted over her whitened face as the captain ordered all seatbelts to be worn. Tipping his head backward against the cooled leather of his seat, his own hand had involuntarily trickled over hers, resting slightly against the cooled sensation. When the action seemed particularly foolish, as her hand was deathly still beneath his, he pulled his hand away, only to have Blair grasp at his fingers in a rigid grip.

He had nearly gasped at the frightening way that her hand had clutched at his; he was sure that her knuckles had turned a bone white with the force. Keeping his stance formal and poised, he allowed her to seize his hand with such power, welcoming the warmth that was surely emanating through her frigid body, and making himself seem nonchalant to Blair's frantic clutch.

When the plane had finally adjusted to the new altitude, and Blair's grip had steadily loosened against his hand, his eyes turned back to her to find those chocolate orbs he had seen so recently in his dreams gazing at him with a somewhat softness.

"Thanks for that," she murmured with a smile. Chuck simply nodded slowly and brought her hand to his lips, placing an ever-gentle kiss at her knuckles before swiftly rising up and moving to the kitchen to procure their drinks.

"So," he spoke when he had settled into his seat, Blair's eyes watching him with amusement as she held the glass of champagne between her fingertips. "What made you decide to brace the early morning rush hour and join me on this trip?"

He hadn't wanted to seem so abrupt; in fact, during his entire time in the kitchen, he had pondered the few words he would say to the lovely brunette, seeking explanation to her abrupt decision.

And yet, as it always seemed in her case, certain words just seemed to flow out of his mouth, ill-planned and far too spontaneous than he would have ever liked.

The red of Blair's lips gradually disappeared as she pursed her lips, her fingers slowly starting to twirl the liquid of the champagne in a steady, circular motion.

She had been expecting this question; in fact, the entire hectic ride over, when she was sure that she would have been the cause of numerous car accidents, the way that Hector was driving, she had been attempting to formulate the perfect response to that question.

Chuck had obviously not wanted her to know about the deal he had made with EJ; the man's easy and quick getaway had involved a prepared airplane ticket and a promise that he would surely fulfill. In fact, EJ had been warned to _stay_ _away _from her; Chuck had informed him that if he would accept the offer, he would not be allowed to go near Blair again.

And yet, why wouldn't he have told her about it? Wouldn't that have been the perfect thing to say to a woman contemplating the acceptance of a romantic vacation with an estranged lover?

Paying off her attempted rapist?

She had known Chuck had wanted her to accompany him; the complete warmth in his eyes and the beginnings of the smirk she had grown to worship had washed over him when he had held her by the roaring jets of the airplane.

And yet, the way he had done it so secretively, so absolutely _stealthily_ so she wouldn't know the extent of his heroic nature, had driven her mad with affection.

As soon as EJ had departed from her home, Blair had raced to her closet and began to ransack the contents of her fashion wardrobe for a couple of hours. She had left Serena a message on her phone, informing the girl of her impromptu plans.

No, she would not reconsider. No, she wouldn't answer the phone unless it was a complete emergency.

And no, she was most certainly _not _telling her mother.

Leaving exact instructions for Serena to only call the model if the circumstances were dire, for she did not want _anything _to spoil the first time she would be so spontaneous, Blair had packed her bags and had spent the next hour calling available services to take her to the airport.

By the time she had gotten in contact with a former client who had an older brother with a working limousine, it was 8:00 AM, exactly one hour till the flight would depart.

The duo, Hector and an extremely frenzied Blair, had driven to the airport as if the hounds of hell were after them. Blair had been frenetic; she had cursed at the multitude of idiotic drivers that seemed to inhabit the streets of New York in the early morning. She was sure that the normally pale complexion of Hector had become nearly _white _as the particularly frightening model ordered him to drive faster. By the time they had arrived, at exactly 9:00 AM, the designated time of departure, Blair had leapt out of the car before it had come to a complete stop, grabbed at her bags that had been lying beside her, in the effort of conserving time when the limo had arrived at her apartment complex, and had launched herself into the absolute warmth of Chuck's arms.

It had been a hectic couple of hours, _indeed_.

And yet, watching the way Chuck's eyes seem to regard her with wonder, she was sure that the entirety of it was surely worth the insanity of her earlier morning.

Downing the entirety of the liquid in a quick gesture, Blair's tongue darted out to capture the golden liquid that had rested against her lips. Her eyes watched Chuck's gaze drop from her eyes to the barely visible drop against her bottom lip coated in a bright red color.

When his eyes lifted to hers, she kept the prolonged gaze and slowly lowered the glass to the carpet below them. Removing her seatbelt, Blair moved forward a bit, watching Chuck's eyes lighten with a mesmerizing glow. She had chosen to wear a figure-hugging dress of a navy blue color, streaks of white against the stretched fabric that went a few inches above her knees. She had paired the outfit with a short white cardigan falling below her breasts. Her legs had seemed endless until they finally rested against a pair of black stilettos, her dark hair still resting in glorious and effortless curls.

Her palms moved to rest against the angled contours of his face, and with a painstakingly slowness, her lips touched his.

Chuck's eyes drifted shut at the sensation of her lips moving against his. She moved with a slight hesitancy, hands roaming across his smooth jaw line and finally cupping him at his neck. Even with the taste of champagne still heavy on her mouth, a vague mixture of mint and cigarettes permeated her tongue, the most unique combination she had ever encountered.

When she pulled away, her lips swollen and smeared even amidst the gentle aura of their kiss, she spoke.

"I think…" she murmured, thumbs slowly starting to draw lazy circles at the skin behind his ears, "I think you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Chuck's lips parted in confusion, his brows furrowed a bit as he gazed at Blair's features so affectionately. He wasn't exactly sure what Blair meant by that statement; the soft whisper accompanying her voice, as if she herself was stunned by the chosen words, was intensely mystifying.

But before he could respond, her head moved to rest against his chest, nose furrowing into the material of his coat. His arm, with a slight hesitancy, curled around her shoulders, and he heard her gentle sigh, her palm resting against his beating heart as she bent her legs underneath her form.

Chuck bit back the happy sigh he was sure was ready to escape him. Never before had he felt such utter completion, the sense of actually being _needed _overwhelm his body. Blair had moved as close as humanely possible, permeating the air around them with a slight hint of a vanilla and the pricey scent of Chanel.

With her form so near to him, his earlier preoccupations and worries escaped him; now, with the lulling comfort of her proximity and the soft tendrils of darkened curls at his fingertips, he could honestly say that, for the first time in his life, all felt right with the world.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_He was trapped._

_There existed no light; only darkness surrounded him as his eyes, with a slight desperation, attempted to find a source of mild brightness. His palms, shaking ferociously under the chilled air and the fright stirring deep within his belly, clawed at the surface of bricks at his side, the only source of contact he could muster. The bricks felt rough beneath his fingertips, and yet, he continued his frantic motions over the hardened contact._

_He shivered as the frosted air bit into his skin, daggers of ice digging into his neck and palms as his bare feet made tentative steps forward. His breathing was harsh; the trek of his hands over the cold surface grew more fearful as he felt the heavy weight of frost rest against his shoulders. When his teeth began to chatter and his fingers grew numb and frostbitten, his breathing became desperate and short, and his eyes darted around him to find a source of freeing salvation in this engulfing hell._

_And then, a soft slimmer of light grew from a distance._

_Chuck abandoned the brick surface and nearly ran to the source of safety. He winced as a jagged piece of ice dug into the flesh of his foot, but he ignored the rushing sensation of blood and continued to hold his hands forward, making his way to the light._

_"Hello?" he heard himself say, his voice a rasp as he was nearly in front of the source of energy. _

_And then, the room was engulfed in a flurry of light._

_Chuck's eyes adjusted to the light rays, taking in the enlarged icicles that sprang from the iced surface. The toothed pieces of ice hung from the ceiling in uneven patterns, and a few tiny ones littered the floor below him._

_His eyes caught sight of his previously throbbing foot, whose pain had immediately dissipated at the incoming light._

_His eyes lifted to a figure before him._

_The figure was clothed in a pricey material of a floor-length dress that hugged at the curves she so easily sported, dark hair in a low chignon. The deep v of the back of the dress exposed her entire backside, the porcelain skin gleaming against the white light surrounding her frame._

_Porcelain._

_His memory immediately flashed to another bared back of porcelain skin._

_A chill ran up his spine as the figure turned her head slightly, and his eyes immediately caught sight of the chocolate orbs of Blair Waldorf._

_She looked positively ghostly, a soft glow seeming to encase her body, her dark hair giving her skin a whitish color. Slowly, her entire body turned to face him, and her fingers grabbed at the material of her dress, lifting it upwards as she descended the few steps separating their bodies._

_Chuck remained stone still as he watched Blair take leisure steps toward him. Even with the ice below her heels, she radiated balance, her eyes watching him as he encountered a slyness deep within the color._

_His brows furrowed as he found himself backing away from her._

_Fright overtook his belly as he slowly inched backwards, unable to gaze at the darkness that seemed to overwhelm Blair's orbs. Still, she moved towards him, mouth parted and eyes pointed._

_He shut his eyes tightly, counting backwards from ten to one, in the hopes of disappearing from the scene before him. _

_It all seemed so wrong. _

_How could Blair's eyes ever be overwhelmed with that much darkness?_

_And then, when he opened his eyes, he found her face inches from his._

_She circled him like a hawk, running her hand across the material of his tuxedo jacket, eyes watching the fabric covering his body. He stood frozen to his spot, keeping his eyes trained on the air directly in front of his gaze. When he felt a slight shiver run down his body, he cursed his reaction to her touch, yet kept his eyes forward, refusing to meet her._

_If he ignored her, could it all disappear? Would this faux Blair flee from his memory?_

_Would he be able to forget the darkness in her eyes?_

_Suddenly, she stood before him, eyes lifted to his, which refused to meet hers. He kept his face unmoving and expressionless, his jaw nearly twitching as his teeth clenched tightly._

_He gulped soundly, eyes unconsciously shutting tight as her finger traveled up his neck and against his cheek with a torturous slowness. The digit traced the intricate shape of his ear, pressing lightly against the skin behind it, before scraping the lobe softly with the tip of her nail._

_And then, he gasped as her breath met the sensitive organ._

_And when she spoke, a blast of unadulterated heat whispered against his ear. _

_"Coward."_

Chuck's eyes shot open, his body jumping slightly in his seat in pure shock. He immediately noted his familiar surroundings, his lungs inhaling mountains of air as he brought a palm to his sweated brow within the airplane. Grimacing slightly, Chuck willed his shaking palms to stop their trembling, his head tipping backwards against his seat as he forced his body to return to a more calming mode.

Images of his dream flashed through his mind with a dramatic clarity. Chuck gulped loudly, his heart slowly beginning to return to a normal pace as he forced the memory away from the confines.

He had no idea what the entirety of the imagery meant. The sensations were stunningly lucid; the blistering of his feet as the frosted ice ran through his foot, the cold surface of the bricks beneath his fingertips as he achingly searched for a source of light.

And of course, the image of Blair in a floor-length dress peering over her shoulder to meet his gaze was the most clear of them all.

He gulped once again as her throaty whisper against his soaked ear breathed its way to his present reality. There was a slow tightening beginning at the pit of his chest; it was overwhelming his breathing and conscious thought.

_"Coward."_

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut at the word. Lying to Blair about the real reason for their quick departure, as well as keeping his phone shut for the entirety of their travels, was the most wretched of his actions in his life.

He sighed deeply, his nostrils taking in lengthy amounts of air as he relaxed the tightening at his eyelids.

The entirety of what he had just experienced was a dream; Blair Waldorf among a wonderland of jagged ice peaks, and the darkness that had inhabited her orbs, was absolutely preposterous.

The product of his lengthy sleep was nonsensical, and slightly maddening.

Licking his lips slightly, he looked downward, finding that she had adjusted her sleeping position and had laid her head at his lap, her palms resting beneath her head, her legs curled in her own seat. Chuck found a smile beginning at his lips, slowly allowing his now steady hand to run through the soft curls that had hallowed across his lap.

The memories of his dream escaped him; the reality of her nearness allowed him to dismiss the notions of his earlier imagery.

And yet, his last fleeting thought was if it was the last thing he would ever do, he would make sure that Blair would never know of how utterly spineless of a character he truly was.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

It was about midnight, local time, when their prepared limousine pulled up to a narrowed and busy street, the vehicle a bit displaced among the throng of visitors. The street was laden with bakeries and bars, and a few tatterias cobbled along the streets of Venice, the casual dining areas still present even amongst a dying population of their kind. It had been one of enticing factors of Venice, in Chuck's opinion; the cultural dining experience was one of those aspects that had continued to bring him back to the majestic European city throughout his life.

Although the sky had been dark for hours, the street was still full with visitors, although certainly not as numerous as the streets he had seen in New York.

Immediately, he recalled the city that had brought him and Blair together, and he couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic for the heart of the states. Amusement filled his features at his recollection of the ill-taste of the American coffee, and the strong resolve of the American women he had encountered during his stay.

Now, he found himself yearning to revisit the American city.

Some of the people were easily recognizable as tourists; cameras hung from their necks like precious necklaces of gold, while others grasped at handheld dictionaries to aid their struggling Italian. They would be quite laden during this time of year; the New Year was fast approaching, and Venice was one of those cities that grew much from its tourist industry, especially during celebratory seasons.

Chuck couldn't suppress the smirk forming at his lips; he was sure he and Blair could be easily recognizable as natives; lack of the digital devices and their expensive clothing would surely allude to that.

His eyes turned back to regard Blair for a moment. She had pillowed her head against his shoulder, her palm resting at the lapel of his coat as she kept her eyes trained on the scenery outside their window. Occasionally, during their ride over from the airport, her lips would land against his cheek; a fleeting sensation of butterfly wings against his skin that made him shut his eyes unconsciously. His hand had landed against the navy fabric of her dress, thumb slowly drawing circles against the material atop her skin.

When the limousine stopped at a corner near the street, Blair's eyebrows furrowed a bit as she kept her eyes trained on the many restaurants outside the window. "I thought you said we were going to your place."

Chuck smirked easily as the driver briskly opened their doorway, sending a wave of cool air into the heat-stifled limousine. He vaguely recalled the warmer weather of Italy, glad he had decided to discard his earlier coat. "How about a quick stop?"

Pulling himself out of the vehicle, Chuck extended a hand to Blair. She easily removed her coat, leaving her in her white cardigan, before accepting Chuck's grasp and allowing him to ease her out of the limo. Chuck murmured a few words of instruction to his driver, tapping at the window as the limousine sped away to their earlier destination.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

"First kiss," he spoke, interrupting the comfortable silence that had settled over them. The two walked down the cobbled street, the night air cool and welcoming from the previous frost they had both endured in New York. Chuck's arm had curved around Blair's waist, allowing a pleasurable wave of heat to course through her body at his magnificent touch. Blair smiled warmly as she took another generous spoonful of her strawberry gelato, the tasty delight cool against her tongue.

Chuck had insisted on the frigid treat. Claiming the barely-visible shop as God's gift to ice cream lovers, he had ushered her inside. The shop's scattered tables and peeling wallpaper gave way to a variety of shades of the Italian classic, and classical music of Bocelli ran through the speakers, the shop already inhabited by a few eager tourists.

The portly man that immediately greeted them unconsciously brought a smile to Blair's face; the man's lengthy mustache, sweaty brow, balding head, and ballooned stomach was exactly the kind of character she could envision owning one of the most successful gelato shops in the country. The man seemed particularly eager to see Chuck; he had, in fact, enveloped her guide with enlarged arms numerous times, and he continually spoke to Chuck in an extremely heavy tongue, his eyes darting from Chuck to Blair, voice speaking with extreme fervor and a hint of absolute adoration for the man.

Chuck's face had gone to an uncharacteristic pink shade when the owner had hugged a slightly bewildered Blair, planting fat and sloppy kisses against her cheeks as Blair smiled politely, her arm reaching out for Chuck's when the man simply would not stop his exuberant greeting. When she had questioned Chuck about the nature of their discussion, he had simply smiled and asked her what she thought of the gelato.

She hadn't even been able to keep the treat from her tongue; it was so _divine_.

"Carter Baizen," she replied as they continued their leisure walk down the street. "I was sixteen years old. He came over after one of my shoots and kissed me."

Turning her eyes slightly, she caught sight of Chuck's smile, his hands diving into the pockets of his trousers. When he said nothing and turned back to her, she raised her brows at him in response.

Surely this would be a question and answer session between the _two _of them, he realized.

He offered a smirk before returning his eyes back to the street below their feet. "I honestly can't remember. I must have been at least twelve, thirteen years old."

Blair couldn't help but smile a bit. An image of a younger Chuck Bass dressed in bowties and suits puckering his lips for a sweetened kiss seemed somewhat… lovely.

"First time?"

Blair's cheeks twinged a slight rose color at the brazen manner of his question, taking another serving of her desert to calm the heat of her cheeks.

"Eighteen years old. Graduation party."

"Fourteen years old. With the nanny."

She stopped their leisure walk, her eyes wide and voluminous as she stared at Chuck's amused face, hand at her hip. "There must be _some _sort of charges associated with that."

He chuckled lightly, amused at the state of her blatant disbelief and the volume of her eyes. "I'm sorry to say there was not."

Hand still at her hip, she regarded him for a bit, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his intoxicating features.

"First love."

Slightly taken back by the direction that the conversation was going, Chuck stepped closer to her, palms curling at her neck as her eyes shut. Chuck neared his lips to her ear, sending a heated blast of air against the sensitive skin as he murmured.

"Unimportant."

Eyes unwilling to open, Blair could only breathe a response.

"Why?"

Trailing his lips along the smooth contours of her jaw line, Blair relished in the pleasurable sensation as his lips pressed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes slowly opened, locking with his hazel orbs as he interrupted the silence, even amongst the crowded Italian streetside.

"First love's okay," he spoke softly, his palms a warm caress against her skin. "But last love, Blair," he explained, speaking her name in a breathless whisper.

"Last love's what I believe in."

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_*

The city had grown deathly quiet.

They had ventured through the tourist-laden road, their feet taking them across the city for a couple of unnoticed hours. Chuck was sure it was past one AM; years of experience taught him that his side of the city was far less susceptible to the ravenous nights he had encountered back in the states. Unlike New York City, his part of Venice generally shut its activity by midnight, engulfing the entire area in shut lights and silence until the early hours of the morning. It was a welcome change of scenery; the only sound was the slight patter of their feet against the cobbled streets, his lips pressed against her ear as they passed a few noticeable attractions he would promise her they'd tour in the morning. When Blair would offer any questions, his heart would soar at the fact that she herself was enjoying this gentle stroll, this new city he had taken her to. Her eyes had grown bright with the marvelous churches, the litter of cafes, the culture that seemed to surround her very form. Throughout the night, he made continuous silent promises to himself that he would make their stay the most wondrous time of her life.

After making a quick call to his driver to dismiss him for the night, Chuck turned back to Blair to find that she had paused in her path, and her brows were currently furrowed, hands placed at slim hips.

"Do you hear that?"

When Chuck only seemed to offer confusion, her eyes enlarged slightly, hand tugging at his as she urged him towards her. "Come on!"

She broke out in a slight jog, which Chuck was absolutely fascinated by considering the towering height of her heels, as he found himself following her through a darkened alleyway they had just passed. Thankfully, there was no one littering the street side, their forms the only living souls in the dead of the night. Apartment buildings gave way to a narrow path as she kept a tight grasp on his hand, leading him through the murky shadows as they passed through numerous alleys.

His ears began to hear the strains of soft piano accompanying a man's deepened voice. When Blair stopped, he looked upwards, finding an old-fashioned radio leaning against one of the highest windows in an aging apartment complex. The couple inside seemed to have forgotten the music they had left atop a windowsill, the interior of the apartment darkened and void of any light, allowing the softened notes of the piano to fly throughout the tiny space.

Chuck immediately recognized the cavernous and soaring voice of Nathan Pachecho, finding it absolutely normal that the entire alley wasn't disturbed by the music. The Venetians would retire early to their rooms in the winter season, always seeming to part their days with the most highly acclaimed vocalists of the decade.

His eyes locked with Blair's smile, saw her shed the cardigan against a nearby ledge, saw her extend her arms toward him.

"Dance with me."

His eyes stared at the exposed skin, the moonlight gleaming against the porcelain surface so that she seemed absolutely ghostly among the darkness. The gold of her necklace beamed off the only source of color at her neck, the red of her lips dark and proud.

Once again, he found himself mesmerized by the allure of her ethereality.

Chuck stepped forward, her body easily sliding against his as he held her. Normally, their swaying forms in a darkened alleyway, the strains of the expert piano around them, would seem a bit unusual. A habitual smirk teased his features as they moved silently to the music, her eyes a bit wild and beautifully colored.

"What is he saying?"

_La luce delle stelle scintilla sul mare _

_Illumina il mio amore_

_E riposa sulla scia che si posa su di te_

Her words were spoken with a whispered curiosity. Slowly, he licked his lips, his fingers unconsciously drawing misshapen patterns at her cloth-covered waist.

"The light of the stars shimmers on the sea, and, like my love, follows the wake until it rests on you."

He saw the muscles of Blair's throat work, saw her eyes lock with his.

_La forza dell'alta marea mi spinge sulla tua spiaggia _

_E son prigioniero della tua bellezza, mi perdo affogando tra _

_le tue braccia come le onde si confondono nel mare _

_Io mi arrendo dentro te che sei il mio universo, il mio unico amore_

"The strength of the tide pulls me to you, and I'm made a prisoner to your beauty. I lose myself drowning between your arms, as if I were a wave disappearing into the sea. I abandon myself inside of you, and find within you my universe and my only love."

Blair's eyes kept with his, the color of her orbs slowly lightening to a warm caramel, and he effortlessly turned her, had her so that her back was pressed against his chest, his palms a curve at her waist, his lips a soft caress at her ear.

_Due occhi brillanti, profondi come il mare, incantano come sirene, _

_Hanno stregato il mio cuore e vuole solo te _

_Tu sei la mia splendida luna e illuminerai per sempre il mio mare_

"Two brilliant eyes, profound as the sea, enchant me like sirens, to bewitch my heart so that it wants you and you only. You are my shining moon, and you will forever light the seas that I follow."

Blair's eyes had blissfully shut, the butterfly wings at her ear tenderly swaying her body back and forth to the piano strains. She felt as if she was floating, carried by a divine force whose endless torture involved the impending flutter of butterfly wings.

Slowly, she brought her hand to the larger hand at her waist, moved it up, soothing it against the fabric of her dress until it rested underneath the curve of her breast.

Chuck gulped soundly, the tips of his fingers beginning a barely-there rove underneath the plump mound that had Blair shiver slightly in his arms. He pressed his forehead against the silken strands of chocolate, rested his lips against the curve of her ear, his breath blistering and engulfing against the surface.

When the piano strains grew softer, and the melody became far more haunting, she heard the rasp of Chuck's voice.

"Il mio unico amore…"

Blair felt herself grow dizzy, felt the gentle caress of Chuck's fingertips at her breast, felt her lids refuse to open, felt the smooth shape of Chuck's bottom lip as it settled against her ear, as he sang the words to the Italian love song.

"Il mio universo…"

And there they swayed, his arms a warm cocoon around her body, her ear pressed against his lips, her heart stilling slowly, as the darkened tone of Chuck's rasp became the only sound she could hear.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

A particularly forceful wind brushed up against Blair's cheek, tiny droplets of water spraying against the surface of the skin as she lounged against the stone balcony overlooking the quiet riverside. Her eyes watched the tender journey of a gondola as it drifted along the river at a distance, the deliriously happy couple within its confines huddled close and seemingly unable to depart from one another. She couldn't resist the smile as she watched the elderly man press a chaste kiss to his ever-beaming wife, the white tint of his hair shining against the dark blue of the water.

They had arrived at Chuck's apartment by one AM. It was a quaint little place by the Giudecca Canal, leading to delightful terraces, cafes, and historical churches that Chuck had promised her they would thoroughly visit the following day. Magnificent paintings, oak woods, and charming lights and tapestries decorated the interior of the apartment, with a private garden outside of the confines that gave host to an antique well and numerous greens and flowers. Chuck had shown her a tour of the apartment, which he had bought a few years ago after his first Venice stay.

As another powerful gust peppered even more water against her skin, Blair shut her eyes slowly, a smile finding its way to her lips as she flushed at the earlier memory of their dance. They had been swaying ever so softly to the deep rasp of Chuck's voice against her ear when they had been found by a group of dirty-faced children who had snickered and giggled at the impromptu contact. The two had fled from the scene, doubled over in laughter by the time they had reached Chuck's home at their widened eyes and speedy runs when they had discovered that they hadn't been alone.

Chuck had retired to his room an hour earlier, assuring her for the final time that night of their plans to visit one of the local museums they had passed on their way over. She had smiled, and his lips had met hers in a quick kiss that had brought on a wave of unprecedented disappointment. She hadn't been able to sleep; after unloading her suitcase and exploring the large bedroom that Chuck had presented to her, Blair had decided that perhaps a few moments by the riverside would do some good for her wretched insomnia. Instead of hoping to wake up refreshed and ready for a day with Chuck, she hadn't been able to pull herself away from the balcony.

And yet, even with the threat of impending exhaustion hanging over her head, there was still one spot Blair wanted to visit before heading to bed.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Chuck tugged at the tie at his neck, allowing the silk to fall in defeat against his shirt. His hand was clutching desperately at a glass of aged scotch, eyes locked outside the window at his bedside.

He couldn't sleep. It had been an hour since he and Blair had said their anxious goodnights in her bedroom, and all attempts at rest were absolutely useless. Nervous pacing, roaming fingers through his hair, and the anxious tapping of his foot had been his activities for the past hour. Now, he had opted for a standing position by his bedside, gazing at the gondolas that were passing along the cooled water.

Taking another swig of the liquid, his mind immediately recalled Blair's face as she had ventured into his guest bedroom. Her features were absolutely intoxicating; he couldn't seem to rid himself of the chocolate doe-eyes, the reddened lips, the lovely curve of her cheek against the darkened room.

His grip became deathly, knuckles turning a ghostly white as he imagined her nightly ritual; a scented bath, a flimsy nightgown, fragranced lotion, before she would tuck herself into the covers of _his _bed, no man allowed to touch her…

_And he would press his throbbing length against her ass, and she would gasp and toss her head back, and he'd press her up against the shower wall, and her breasts would mash against the cooled tile, and she would gasp again, and he'd dig his hand between her skin and the frigid surface, and lower two fingers, and she'd gasp a third time, and he'd watch the shower head pulse against the raised nipples of her porcelain mounds…_

Chuck brought his forehead to the cooled surface of the window, groaning slightly as the treacherous images floated to his mind. He had known this was going to be the most difficult part when he had urged her to accompany him; and yet, the insanity he was preparing himself for most certainly couldn't compare to this temptation.

His eyes darted to the glass of scotch held tightly in his palm; he was certain that his choice of drink would most definitely not aid his quest for a cure to insomnia. Recalling a vague recollection of the warmth of milk soothing his nerves as a child, Chuck abandoned the glass of scotch by the window side and headed to the kitchen.

It was a lovely place of oak wood and stainless steel furnishings, befit for any culinary lover, stocked with the most advanced cooking utensils and variety of foods within its confines. Glass doors led to the esteemed garden on his right, the green land littered with a few lanterns to offer bare light. Running a hand through the messy locks of his hair, Chuck let out an exhausted sigh, his steps heavy as he tugged at the refrigerator door to bask the kitchen in bright light.

A sheer white material through the glass doors caught Chuck's eye.

Although the movement had been so fleeting, and any other night it would have been dismissed, Chuck's eyes narrowed slightly. Licking his lips, Chuck abandoned the refrigerator and took measured steps towards the glass doors leading to the garden. Intruders weren't common in this side of the city; Chuck hadn't ever had a problem with them, and would most certainly never have expected them through the gated garden.

He stepped into the greened environment, his bare feet making a sickening crunch against the aged leaves that had fallen atop the grass. He hadn't entered the garden in years, not finding much use for the area except for the occasional glance to see what had become of it during one of his many stays. Lengthy vines tangled along the stoned walls surrounding the private garden, along with a few trees and clusters of brightly shaded flowers coloring the green area. A lone well that had been dry for decades now stood in the center of the garden, a few branches surrounding the base.

And yet, Chuck would have never known what had changed, because his eyes could not leave the sole figure that had decided to visit the garden.

Although her back was to him, Chuck would have recognized her anywhere, from the curtain of dark curls that fell down her back, to the sheer snow robe that covered her frame. Slowly, she turned her head to peer at him over her shoulder, lips parted slightly and invitingly.

His heart pounded anxiously against his chest, creating a rapid rhythm as he realized the scene was an exact _mirror _of his dream in the plane a few hours earlier.

The way she was looking at him over her shoulder, the dark lashes prominent, the chocolate of her hair beaming against the porcelain of her skin. Immediately, he recalled the utter fear he had encountered in his dream at the darkness that had seemed to overwhelm her orbs, at the way his feet had backed away from her as she advanced upon him without word or breath.

And yet, he knew it was pure madness, knew that the product of his guilt had poured over into a nonsensical hallucination.

Because all he could see in Blair's eyes was burnt caramel, and the bare glimmer of hope.

And he found himself begin to approach her.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Blair turned her head back and dropped it slightly to keep her eyes fixed to the sight that had caught her attention. She felt her smile grow to a smirk as she felt the contours of Chuck's lips press a haste kiss against her neck. Angling her head slightly, she met his lips in a softened greet, his palms coming to rest over her stomach.

Her eyes revealed their color when he pulled away, her arms coming to rest over his as she resumed her gaze forward. She had freed her hair from the pins so that her curls went flying around them with every wind that rose to greet them, and Chuck found that his nose had delved into the silken locks to inhale the sweetened strawberries.

Blair's lids fluttered shut, her head tipping backwards as Chuck's still palms drove a heated flame through her middle. Their fingers tangled against the loose material of the fabric of the ivory gown, her mouth releasing shuddering breaths as Chuck's lips hovered dangerously close to her jaw.

She gulped soundly, licking her dry lips as she spoke in a hushed whisper.

"I've seen those flowers in my painting."

Chuck's eyes shifted to the short-stemmed flowers that sprang from the green earth beside the stone wall. His lips ran a brushing path over her jaw before pressing lightly against her ear.

When she felt his lips trace her jaw line to the tender shape of her ear, she nearly cried out at the unorthodox heat.

She felt him smile against the sensitive organ, felt his palms press deep against her belly as he rasped against her ear.

"Spring gentians," he murmured, and only she could detect the hint of affection that laced his voice. "They say anyone who picks from the vivid blue cluster dies immediately."

She gulped at his words, eyes still shut at the omen he so carelessly spoke of. She watched her white fingers roam over the dark skin of his hands over her belly, watched the contrast of colors so easily sported in the late evening.

Cinammon and sugar, she realized.

He, so dark and treacherous, eyes that could shift from a hazel warmth to a coal black in merely moments.

She, so white and pure, the snow of her skin refusing any kisses from an ever-eager sun.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

She felt Chuck's throat work in laughter, felt the vibrations of his amusement.

"Always."

She pursed her lips once, twice, thrice, before speaking.

"I've been dying to have you touch me."

She felt Chuck's forehead press against her cheek, his palms pressing deeper into her robe-clad belly.

And even Blair could not understand his breathless sigh, the meaning cloaked behind it.

Inclusive and rampant _hunger._

She kept her eyes to the mixture of their hands, moving her fingers to the tie at the ivory robe.

Daintly, she tugged the silk free, allowing the elegant fabric to fall at their feet.

Immediately, she felt Chuck's desperate inhalation, felt the inner turmoil seep through her backside. She had never ever been so brazen before; the old Blair Waldorf would have cringed at the forwardness of her gesture.

But that is what had gotten her here, was it not?

Vaguely, she recalled her annoyance at the forward lips that had pressed against her hand so confidently, at the smirk of the man accompanying such lips within the staged theme of Victrola. Strangely enough, she felt a bit of exhiliration at how easily she had been able to slip off the robe; Chuck Bass had created a new Blair Waldorf, she realized.

And this Blair Waldorf would get whatever she deemed absolute.

Chuck's palms rose up her bare arms, clutching at the warmed skin in pure agony. This was _far _too much; being with Blair in _that _way would give rise to complications he hadn't even had the time to worry over. Crushingly, he recalled the promise he made to himself atop her balcony in New York City, the blare of the taxicabs a serenade for his most regretful decision, as she had lain a few feet away from him, unaware of his most wretched deceit.

_So, at that moment, standing before the lights of New York City, Chuck Bass resolved never to sleep with Blair Waldorf._

And yet, watching the way she had so easily told him of her desires, and the way her porcelain skin nearly seemed to _glow_, that would definitely be the concluding crescendo of the night.

Chuck tightened his eyes as the sensation of the soft silk against his nostrils coursed through his veins. All he could feel, see, smell, _hear _was Blair fucking Waldorf; silken skin, dark curls, vanilla and Chanel, a throaty laugh amonst a crowded streetside.

God, he wanted her.

He had wanted her the minute his father had placed glistening photographs before his gaze, coupled with an exuberant dictation of the plans they would have for the young vixen. He had wanted her when she had pressed her forehead against his, the New York chill unable to ward the warmth of her body against his. He had wanted her when her eyes had been misty, and her motions drug-induced, her arms beckoning him over, the curve of her shoulder peeking out from his shirt.

He had wanted her the moment he had _seen_ her.

And finally, after months of agonizing, after weeks of treacherous dreams and images, after years of _agony_, he decided to damn the entirety of his life to hell.

And his fingers ran a quick path over her shoulders, tugging at the violet straps of her nightgown, forcing the material away from her skin, exposing the snow that had haunted his dreams, until it fluttered to their feet, like the gentle descent of butterfly wings.

Leaving Blair white, willing, and _nude._

___~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Blair gasped soundly as a sudden chill met her bare nipples, her arms reaching backwards to wrap around Chuck's neck as his lips pressed tenderly against her shoulder. When the heat from his palms nearly scorched the skin at her abdomen, Blair's lids drifted closed, her mouth releasing a tiny moan as a single finger traced down her spine.

She shivered, hissed as Chuck's palms cupped the cheeks of her ass, hands roving over the softened skin as his teeth scraped tiny lovebites at her neck. When his hands roamed over her backside, she felt a hardened and portruding heat press against her ass, her body stretching dreamily as Chuck's nose buried into her hair, one palm traveling across the skin to meet a cold and aching breast.

She moaned his name loudly, eyes tightened shut as Chuck's palm engulfed the entire mound, the other wound in the curls at her back as she breathed short and rapid breaths. Slowly, she turned around, gazing up at Chuck as he found himself breathless at the light in her eyes. Quickly, his clothes joined the growing pile at their feet, hands desperate and unwilling to spend another useless moment. When she looked upon the glorious body of the man who would claim her, the tangle of dark curls at his chest leading to a swollen and aching manhood, she barely had had time to utter a word before his palms had caught at the underside of her thighs, pressing her white breasts against his chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist and plunged her tongue into his mouth. She felt the trunk of her tree meet her back as he hungrily ravaged her neck, her fingers tugging at his hair as he took an entire porcelain breast into his mouth, Blair's open moans leading one palm to burn the heat of her upper thigh. All rational thought fled from her mind, and all she could feel was the swirl of Chuck's tongue around her breast as he took what was rightfully his.

When he realized her imminent discomfort, he forced their bodies to sink to the cold earth below them, Blair falling below his body as he braced himself upon his arms to catch sight of his ever-beloved temptress before him.

Blair before him, her skin gleaming _white_ against the green of the earth.

Blair before him, open, alive, and _willing_.

And he felt the entirety of his lungs collapse at the utter invitation of it all.

His eyes traveled from the length of her legs to the triangle of dampened darkness at the juncture of her thighs, up her stomach, to the heavy spill of her breasts, up to the glorious chocolate orbs that stared up at him in fascination.

And then, he couldn't restrain his ravenous hunger any longer.

He pressed his skin against hers, groaning deeply as a deep-rooted fire coursed through his veins at the sensation of their heated flesh meeting. Blair's palms pressed against the blades of Chuck's back, her head tossed back in pure agony as Chuck's face buried against her neck.

She felt him pull away immediately; her eyes filled with a hazy confusion as Chuck's face was filled with ill-placed apprehension.

She saw the muscles of his throat work, saw the way his mouth trembled as he hovered over her, his hands holding her thin and bare waist.

"I promised myself I would never touch you."

A sense of need overcame Blair at that moment; furiously, she lifted herself up, gripping at his hands at her waist and flipping them over, so that she was the one on top, and he, a shocked Chuck below her.

And then, she sank into him, eyes shut tight at the initial penetration. Chuck's hands found her waist, lowering her and directing her to shed the slight discomfort. His length was far greater than she ever could have imagined; even in her most passionate of dreams, the expectation of his length had never been as fulfilling. When he was fully inside her, his palms rounded at her ribcage as Blair arched herself backwards, hair falling down her back in a riveting curtain as Chuck urged his hips upward.

Even with her position, Blair cried out freely at the mixture of pain and pleasure, Chuck's upper body propelling forward to meet her lips in a lip-bruising kiss of silent forgiveness as they rocked against each other. Eyes still shut, he lay back down, Blair's gasps the only sound he could hear as their hips met in a slow rhythm, one hand meeting the soaked underside of her curls. He moaned quietly as his fingers found a curved breast, fingers tugging downward at the supple skin as Blair tossed her head backwards in pure ecstasy.

Quickly, he flipped them over once again, lips pressing firmly against Blair's as her legs bent easily, Chuck's palm at her ass as hers met around his neck in a tender gesture. He drove into her without abandon, Blair's loud approval urging him on, palms scorching against her breasts, her chest, her abdomen, her backside, any inch of her skin that wasn't already quivering, bodies slick and slippery. Gasps, moans, grunts, and the rustling of the leaves below her body became the only sounds they could hear, the overwhelming heat threatening to engulf their bodies in a fiery ending. Her legs refused to cross at his backside, and he and met her frantic thrusts with desperation, his back dripping with droplets of sweat that were identical to the ones at the back of her neck. When she felt herself begin to reach the highest of heavens, and his hips rammed furiously into her core, she caught her breath, catching sight of a bright whiteness beneath her lids.

_"I promised myself I would never touch you."_

And with one final surge into her body, and a hot stream of liquid running down her thighs, she melted with his promise.

___~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

I hope you enjoyed :)

Reviews are, as always, adored! I must say, I'd love to hear what you thought of that last scene :)


	24. Chapter 24: Rendered Breathless

**Title:** Blood and Butterfly Wings

**Author:** Syrianora

**Rating:** Mature

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All is used for entertainment, none for profit.

**Pairings:** Mostly Chuck and Blair. (Implied D/S)

**Summary:** Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. AU Chuck and Blair. Mature.

**Author's Note:** Hey all! Remember me :) First off, I'd like to apologize to all my faithful readers and alerters and reviewers and favoriters (a word?) for the absolute delay: I had an insane amount of trouble with this chapter. Also, I did some extensive traveling over the past couple of months that had me in places that didn't have any internet connection. But, that did give way to some one-shot and multi-chapter fic ideas that I may start, so it wasn't completely negative, fanfiction-wise :) Now, for the chapter; originally, it ended a bit farther but the next part required a little bit of extensive editing. I know people have been waiting for this update for a while now so I decided to go ahead and post what I have that is fully edited, and just add the next part to the next chapter. Hopefully, the next chapter should be out within the next week or two :) If real life permits, which I pray it does! Don't worry: I still adore CB and I haven't forgotten about this story; there's still a long way to go for CB, and Chuck's long awaited fear will come to pass (I can't give away too much :). Also, for the scene in the kitchen and on till the end of the chapter, I'd highly suggest listening to Katy Perry's Futuristic Lover; it was my main motivation when writing the scene, and I think it's absolutely perfect for setting the tone of passion and fury, the mindset of CB at the time :) Also, if you are left confused about the last line, I'll give you a hint: go back to Chapter 11 :) As always, I **adore **my reviewers, alerters, favoriters, and all readers; eternal and a million cyber hugs to you all, because your words, encouragement, and your overall loveliness kept this story and idea alive :) Thank you so so much! I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading :)

* * *

**Chapter 24: Rendered Breathless**

_"Kiss me, kiss me,_

_Infect me with your love and_

_Fill me with your poison."_

_Katy Perry, "Futuristic Lover"_

* * *

It would be a few years before an older Chuck Bass would finally begin to understand the sheer force of that encounter within his fabled garden.

Only with the passage of time, that dreadful thing that brought him closer and closer to his imminent fate, that bearer of ill-will that had haunted his days since the moment those glossed photographs had been placed before him with bitter, calculating, deceitful fingers, could he comprehend the intensity that bubbled deep within his chest when his dark eyes revealed their color, and he found himself pressed up against the pale temptress of his dreams.

He was sure it had been a dream, a highly intricate conception of unbearable weeks of pent-up sexual frustration bursting out in an explosive blend of sight, taste, smell, and touch. The entirety of it all could have been the result of a restless night with only the familiarity of his amber liquid beside him.

The lack of disturbance, and the intensity of her presence whenever it _was_ real, could certainly attest to that.

After all, it had happened before.

Furious pacing, rampant fingers, and abrupt flashes of the elongated nape of Blair Waldorf would always lead to his frustrated collapse, the fantasies of his most-kept desire erupting out in a mix of brightened colors and quiet but sure moans whispered in the dark. His eyes would always catch stolen images of those dreams when he had awoken, the early morning sun fueling him to abrupt flashes of a torturous night that would only solidify just how much he had yearned for Blair Waldorf.

And just how much he had yearned for a single moment of those well-constructed fantasies to be _true_.

Yet, when the first stirrings of his conscious state began, when the cool brick surface below his naked body made its wicked presence known, he had already realized that this wasn't a dream. Although his scotch-induced fantasies were capable of providing a damn-good impersonation, he had known the minute he had awoken that _all _the abrupt flashes had been a true reality.

And that Blair Waldorf was, finally, after what seemed _decades _of waiting, in his arms.

Not a sight of clothing covered their frames. Chuck's body clung to hers, one arm beneath her head with her curls forming a comfy cushion, with the other resting over the expanse of her stomach, his hand coming to fall over a white and glowing breast. One thigh stretched and covered her lower area, skin pressed tight with hers and toes curling into her calves.

There existed no separation, not a clutching breath between their bodies, not a writhing gasp against their skin, that he finally understood that old cliché.

That old cliché about not knowing where he _began_ and she _ended_.

And with his nose resting at her neck, he was absolutely overwhelmed by the scent. A slight hint of vanilla clouded by the smell of sweat permeated his senses, along with a vaguely distinguishable scent that he deemed the lingering scent of their union.

And yet, even with the familiarity of Blair's body beside his, lying against the brick ground of his garden in Italy, surrounded by those same flowers that had greeted her eyes when she had passed the glass doors, he understood the vague impression that something in the world had _changed._

He _felt_ different.

As if waking up from a lengthy dream and furiously unable to remember a single scene to finally glance upwards during the day to discover the indecipherable meaning clearly sketched before your very eyes, within the forms of the clouds, among your everyday life.

As if finding the purpose to your life within the crowded streets of New York City, specks of white snow littering her skin as your eyes cannot seem to tear away from the crimson red of her lips, the soothing nature of her character, the brilliant beauty of her existence.

The sounds of the early morning grew far more evident. The moisture sparkling the grass below his feet grew more tangible. The feel of Blair's breast against his fingertips was nearly _unmistakable_.

There existed an anticipation in his blood he could not name, could not muster to tame or, even more frightening, could not bear to _question_.

Of course, only time would allow him the opportunity to fathom exactly why that morning was unlike any other. He could not, and would not, until he was absolutely ready, receive the answer as to why his senses became overwhelmingly superior, or that they had finally decided to kick in after years of ill-performance.

He would not understand that, at that _exact_ moment, his mind had divided his life into two stages.

Pre-Blair, and post-Blair.

For now, all Chuck Bass could do was smile, lean his body undeniably closer to Blair's, and will that intensity within his chest to remain until the day he perished.

* * *

The early winds of Venice finally began by seven in the morning. The city, already conscious of the premature morning chill that would befall it, remained blissfully unaware that the winds would disturb the comforting doze of two lovers at peace.

Had the two lovers became aware of the winds' early schedule, perhaps they would have taken up the old Venetian habit of early mornings spent inside the bedroom, rather than a greened garden outside of Chuck's home.

So the wind granted the pair a wake-up call with a particularly forceful gust that had Blair shivering slightly, brown eyes peeking open, full lips pursing slightly.

When the warm body pressed up beside her grumbled slightly in his sleep, fingers tugging a bit at the white skin of her breast as he urged her body closer to his to ward from the early morning chill, she smiled easily, turning her head and finding herself unable to turn away from her companion of the night.

Although he had been the purest gentleman of the kind, she would never doubt that he had been the most amazing lover in her entire life. She found herself recalling every single moment of every following encounter after the first, absolutely intoxicated by his intensity.

He had breathed her name against her skin, wrapped his fingers in hers whenever she reached the highest of heavens, and pressed his lips against the pulse point at her neck whenever she rode down a sexual wave, senses slowly brightening to proper use and eyes slowly starting to place colors.

He had traced his finger against the curve of her breast, eyes locked on the mound with brows furrowed, while she watched, a whisper of a breath at her lips, as he studied her body with the most erotic of expressions.

He had brushed his lower lip to the skin at her neck, a slight whisper of a sensation, while her arms wound around his neck, legs around his hips, hardened nipples tickled by the blissful curls at his chest.

He had held her legs around his waist while he drove into her against the bar of the aged well, her palms running red as she clutched the stone edge, his kisses warm against those fresh scars tingling her fingertips.

He had loved her until she had been rendered _breathless_ by him.

Her eyes wandered lazily over his face, the sharpness of his features still intoxicating her at that moment.

There existed a certain serenity when he slept that she particularly envied, but forgave him because, strangely enough, his serenity brought her serenity as well. She could deem nothing more freeing than lying stark naked in his arms, the cares of the outside world the farthest thing from her mind.

An amusing smile came to her lips as she moved forward, brushing her lips coolly against his. She felt him stir slightly, felt those full lips open slightly before she pulled away, watching those caramel eyes slowly reveal open.

He smiled, a true and honest smile that had become increasingly frequent since she had first met him.

"Good morning."

She kissed him full on the mouth, pulling away only when the requirement of air overcame her.

"Good morning," she murmured breathlessly. Chuck's eyes watched her lips become gentle pink with kissing, his arms pulling her closer, until his hand cradled her neck and his forehead pressed against hers.

His thumb began a delicate tracing of her collarbone. "I'm going to paint a picture of you," he murmured, eyes cast downward to her body, "completely naked."

He heard her generous laughter, felt the vibrations of her amusement. "I would probably be a _bit_ more impressed if I didn't already know your lack of artistic talent."

Chuck smiled, recalling one of those details he had revealed to her during their first dinner. "I'll learn how to paint," he explained slowly, thumb tracing down the valley of her breasts, "have you pose in this garden," down to her bellybutton, "without a stitch of clothing."

He then moved his thumb to her hip. "Then, I'll hang the canvas in my bedroom," she heard him say, his thumb tracing back up her side, "and pleasure myself for _hours_."

Wicked laughter escaped her, her head tossing backward against the surface below them as her arms wrapped easily around his neck, eyes locking with his.

"Part of me finds that pleasurably... erotic."

He smiled warmly, moving his palms along her bare backside. When he felt the chill clinging to her skin, he pressed his lips against her forehead, speaking softly.

"Let's head inside."

* * *

She was absolutely _intoxicated _by him.

That would seem to be the only logical conclusion as to why she just couldn't keep her eyes off him.

They had retreated into the dark wood of the kitchen, the sheer robe he had swept off her body earlier covering her frame once again. He had tossed a navy-shaded bathrobe from a nearby closet over himself, hands rummaging through a few raised cupboards, his back facing her form currently sitting atop the kitchen table.

Her head tilted to the side, one side of the robe revealing a bare shoulder as she regarded the man before her.

If someone had ever told her that would abandon all she had known in New York for a single man she had known for so little time, she would have waved away at their insanity, provided Serena with an afternoon of laughter, and continued on in her meticulous rituals.

The entire Upper East Side was aware of Blair's restrictive nature. It wasn't something that she had chosen to hide. Instead, she had embraced her life as someone who lived off the routine schedule of her life, never to be disturbed from the thoroughness that, some, claimed had overwhelmed her.

Blair Waldorf didn't exhibit the carefree nature of Serena Van Der Woodsen; boyfriends did not jet her off to foreign countries for a weekend, much rather for an undetermined amount of time.

It was something that, deep inside, she had envied greatly of her best friend. It wasn't uncommon for Serena to return from a rendezvous with her newest man, skin glowing with a natural bronze and hair attractively unruly. Even the times when she would return lonesome, certain that the next one would be the one, Blair could sense that the girl was truly, and maddeningly, happy with how she chose to live her life. And ever since Daniel Humphrey had entered Serena's life, that positively glorious radiance that emanated from her being had seemed to have brightened, and did not look as if it would depart soon.

It wasn't as if Blair hadn't had any trysts with romance at all. Men had entered her life, flooded her with gifts, buried her with lines, and had left her life.

But she knew the moment that Chuck had entered her life, the story would play out differently.

From the instance he had pressed his lips against her hand at Victrola, he had initiated a catastrophic turn of events that would have her boarding a plan to Venice without a look back, disregarding all she had ever known for a chance encounter with a man who had stolen her heart _and _her soul.

And from the minute she had thrown herself into his arms, the New York wind whipping at their forms, a part deep within her had known it had been the most important decision she had ever made in her life.

Her eyes trailed up Chuck's form, the memories of the previous evening allowing her to trace the outline of his body. She had seen it before; she had touched it, explored it, ran slightly shaking fingers over his backside. Even with the robe covering his body, she could make out the wide set of his shoulders leading to a lean waist.

The same waist her legs had been wrapped around a few hours before. She was sure long streaks of red would be evident on his backside for _days. _

It was certain; she was absolutely and treacherously _intoxicated _by him.

When Chuck breathed out an audible sigh of relief and turned around swiftly, Blair found the object of his tireless search. A lone pack of cigarettes, a bit crumbled around the edges, but still in usable shape, stood proudly in his grasp, before he pulled out a solitary stick and effortlessly lit the end.

She watched the end brighten red, glow bright, before it dulled immediately as a cloud of smoke joined their company.

Usually, the stench of cigarettes would be the most evident turn-off for her. She had been with numerous men who had been friendly with the act of smoking, and she was sure the nasty habit had been one of the main causes for a break-up.

However, watching Chuck's eyes slowly regard her, arms folded and a spray of curls peeking out from beneath the robe, before those full lips pursed slightly to wrap around the end of the cigarette, was doing… _odd_ things to her.

Mainly, there was a familiar heat building, and she crossed her legs demurely, licking her lips.

Chuck's eyes watched Blair, her legs dangling from the edge of the island tabletop in the center of the kitchen. The sheer white robe that had graced his fingers in parting a few hours earlier had, quite wretchedly, found its way to shield her most lovely features from his viewing pleasure. He breathed the deep taste of the tobacco into his lungs, allowing the overwhelming feel to delve deep into his chest, as Blair's legs crossed easily atop the tabletop.

Now, that simply would not _do. _

He took small and measured steps towards her, watching her eyes visibly blacken with every step as he neared her figure. When he finally stood a few inches away from her, an amused smirk reached his lips as she pulled the cigarette from between his fingertips, and took a lengthy drag of the stick.

And then, at the moment, he wasn't sure if there was ever a more erotic sight than a nearly nude Blair, her pink nipples evident through the thin material of her robe, her eyes identical to black pearls, as her lips curled around the end of the stick, releasing an unadulterated dance of smoke from between two sensual, rouge-shaded lips.

When his eyes became black, and his smirk slowly disappeared, she smiled wickedly, keeping her legs crossed as she lay back against the marble countertop, arms extending from her body, the lit cigarette still dangling from between two long fingers, her back to the smooth surface.

His fingers cleverly found the tie of the robe, releasing the fabric from its confines until it opened without hesitation, revealing a white body nearly _quivering_ with yearning.

He released a shaky sigh, his two index fingers running down her body as his eyes flicked upward to watch her reaction. The full bottom lip he had worshipped hours earlier caught between her teeth, and her eyelids had drifted shut, thin curls of smoke serenading her hair.

His eyes moved downward over a lengthened neck, over aroused nipples, until they reached the tangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.

Slowly, he pressed his lips against the pulse point at her neck, sensing the shudder escaping her lips. He lifted his lips upward until they breathed against her ear, the warmth making her whimper for him.

"Open your legs."

Coal eyes met his. He saw the muscles of her throat work, saw the full bottom lip be released from its cage. Slowly, his lips ran a free trail over her jawbone, down to the underside of her left breast. His nose skimmed over the tender skin before the most gentle of kisses was granted to the milk skin.

Blair's eyes rolled backwards at the intimate gesture, her fingers delving into his scalp to tangle with the locks, the cigarette still dangling between two fingertips.

His arms braced against her thighs as his nose breathed in the scent down her body, pausing slightly at her abdomen.

"Wider."

He heard her quiet moan, her desperate need as her thighs moved apart from beneath his palms. His eyes flitted shut, his nose continuing the heated trail over her abdomen until the scent changed considerably, his nose meeting evident dampness.

Her fingers froze their trek. He gulped soundly, pressing his nose to the sensitive flesh, ears trained to hear Blair's throaty gasp from above him.

"You smell like _heaven_."

The muscles beneath his palms began to quiver, and when he looked up, Blair sat up immediately, propelling his body backwards until his back pressed against the wall.

Her fingers clawed at his bathrobe, tugging the fabric away from his body, as he did the same to the offending piece of fabric covering her own form.

His arms immediately wrapped around her petite figure, her lower back digging into the kitchen table as his lips overwhelmed her. She gasped against his mouth at the feel of his prominent need for her pressing so harshly against her.

Her body twisted around fully, palms grasping at the edge of the table, so that her front was to the table, his large, swollen, aching member pressing against her from behind. His heated hands ran a fiery path over her body, over her breasts, palming the sensitive skin until it grew red and raw.

Her head lolled backward, her arms wrapping around his back as his teeth pressed against her porcelain neck. One hand traveled from an engorged nipple down her abdomen to the sensitive soaked folds between her legs, and she moaned loudly, her eyes beginning to see vivid colors from beneath her lids.

"Blair," she heard him breathe, felt the rasp of his voice against her skin. As much as he was craving sweet release, they had remained unprotected the first time, and he didn't want to scare her away. "Blair, we should…"

"Taken care of," she breathed wildly. "It's all taken care of."

Slowly, he surged into her, sliding himself long and hard into her body until she fell forward, palms tight against the edge of the table.

He remained frozen to allow her time to adjust, one arm wrapping over her breasts and around her chest, nose pressed into her hair as the sounds of their breathless gasps became the only presence in the room. Blair's head rolled backwards, eyes squeezed shut and palms still squeezing the tabletop, before Chuck attached his lips to the point below her ear.

Then, he began to move slowly, ever so slowly, before increasing his pace, power, and frequency with each thrust, as they bucked wildly against the kitchen table, the cigarette long gone agains the floor tiles. Finally, when she let out a free gasp and fell forward against the table, still and unmoving, he felt himself reach the highest of heavens, and his palms locked at her hips, holding her still, with his release sweeping into her with the ferocity of long-forgotten lovers.

He remained inside of her, body hanging over hers, nose pressed against her hair, sweat-soaked chest pressed against her back, her breasts crushed against the cool marble, as they allowed their breathing cycles to return to normal. His lips moved to offer a hasty kiss below her ear lobe, and she turned her head, allowing the two to exchange a softer, more prolonged kiss full of promise, and, most certainly, the imminent future.

* * *

They had been lounging in his bed for a full hour, just touching, kissing, breathing against each other. Empty plates of fruit, assorted cheeses, jams, and other Venetian delicacies were piled at the foot of the bed, their appetite for food and one another mixing quite well.

Blair's cheeks turned a shade of rouge when she recalled one of their more erotic food moments. Chuck had held a simple blueberry between his finger and forefinger, and pressed the delicate bit of fruit between them, allowing the juice to drip, at first, down her abdomen.

But when he had presented her with an earlier command once again, her thighs had been spread apart, and the small bit of blue liquid trailed down the folds between her legs.

It had been one of the most carnal encounters, _indeed_.

* * *

"Tell me about your parents."

They were lying atop his bed, the early Venetian sunlight streaming in through the full-length windows and falling over their forms. He, in his robe, and her, completely and utterly naked, atop his body, their forms lying against the silken sheets of his bed.

His fingers continued their sensual caress over her spine, thumb tracing over the bumps of her vertebrae. Her hand had snuck below his robe, over his heart, his chin resting atop her head.

"A repeat of earlier today would be preferred," he teased, a smile turning his lips upwards as his fingers moved slightly to her hipbone.

"Don't be mean," she replied back with a slight lightness to her voice, fingers tugging a bit at the dark curls below her fingertips, emanating a slight hiss from him.

"Serves you right," she murmured haughtily, although her fingertips were running over the skin in a tender gesture, in a silent apology she would never reveal aloud.

He smirked easily, eyes watching the way her bare toes were running over his silk-covered calves. It was in those easy gestures, those simple movements, that he truly began to realize how much he adored her innocent company.

He licked his lips, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair that was begging his lids to drift downward, before he spoke.

"Why do you want to know?" he murmured against her hair, his eyes remaining shut.

He felt her fingertips run slowly over his chest, before she sat up slightly, his front to her front. His eyes revealed a dark almond color when her palms found their way to cup his cheeks.

"I'm curious," she spoke quietly, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as she studied his features, as if she was studying him for the very first time. "Your mother must have been very beautiful."

Her thumbs traced the sharpness of his jaw, the smoothness of the eyebrows, the fullness of his lower lip, the jagged features that should have been an immediate testimony to his unique beauty.

"She had to have been a model."

And then, slowly, she kissed him, a delicate and unyielding kiss that reminded him of the sensation of butterfly wings against his cheek in the summertime when he was six years old.

When she pulled away, and his lids were heavy as he lifted them open, and he was sure he had spent an eternity in her arms, he smiled.

"Wrong," he replied easily, a hint of a teasing smirk glittering at his lips. "She wasn't anything like that." When she remained quiet in a silent gesture for him to continue, he obliged.

"She didn't model, or anything of that sort. She was a regular old coffee girl living in a run-down apartment in New York City when my father met her."

He saw Blair smile freely before he continued. "My father once told me that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen."

Blair offered a small smile. He had gained a certain… _sweetness _with which he spoke of his mother, along with a surfacing glow in his dark eyes that reminded her of the glow a tear made upon milk white skin.

And yet, she knew the entire story wasn't over. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she spoke. "What happened to her?"

He smirked a bit, palms tracing down the velvet skin of her naked backside, as he spoke easily among her gaze. "She died, just like everyone eventually does."

Blair pursed her lips before continuing.

"And your father?"

Her eyes were warm and fragile as her fingers moved to trace the shape of his lips, a feature of his that she found incredibly breathtaking. Her voice was contemplating, a bit sad, as she kept her eyes with his. He kissed the tip of one finger with a softness that nearly had her breathless.

"Couldn't think less of me."

Her thumb moved to trace the shape of his eyebrow, pressing a barely present kiss at the hairless portion toward the end.

He was one of the most beautiful things she had ever _seen_.

When her eyes met his again, she spoke.

"Having someone think nothing of you… I know how that feels."

The murmur was so slight, so quiet, that he strained to hear her words.

"It makes you feel like," she began, her voice contemplating in the silence. "Makes you feel like you never want to feel. Like you never want to feel anything, forever. "

He stared at her, long and hard, before speaking.

"I want to show you something."

* * *

She gazed at him through the mirror before her. He had set her down at the oak wood vanity in the bedroom, his feet leading him to the closet behind her. An amused smile came to her lips when his face immediately lit up, and he emerged from the tiny room with a small velvet pouch between his fingertips.

She shut her eyes playfully as he smirked easily at her from the reflection of the mirror. When she was prepared to open her eyes, a cold blast of metal hit her bare collar; her eyes slowly revealed open in confusion before her eyes grew wide.

An antique, diamond pendant hung at her throat, a tiny shimmer of silver beaming out against the cream of her skin. The small, gentle piece offered a peeking brilliance that gave it a subtle and glorious beauty.

"It was my mother's," he explained when her fingers reached out to touch the bit of radiance against her throat. "It's the only thing I have left of her, and I want you to have it."

Blair turned her eyes to him as she spoke. "Chuck, it's…"

He shushed her impending words with a finger to her lips before tucking a rampant curl behind her ear. "I _don't _want to hear how the necklace is too extravagant, or that you can't accept the gift. I'm giving it to you, and you're going to wear it and show everyone in this world one simple thing."

When she glanced from the mirror towards his serious expression with confusion, he spoke.

"Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty."

Her eyes grew cloudy, and she opened her mouth to speak. But he shushed her once again.

"But you have to promise me something. Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what moment passes between us, you'll come back to this moment." With that, he fingered the diamond gleaming against her throat, the extravagance paling in comparison to the wearer.

"This _exact _moment."

And she could only whisper "I promise" when his tongue dipped into her ear.

* * *

They had swept the curtains shut, the only light in the room being the tiny shimmer of the diamond against Blair's throat. They sat facing each other atop the silken bedcovers; her, with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, arms resting at his shoulders, with his palms pressed against her naked lower back, his nose skimming her throat.

Just as she had an apparent fascination with his sharp jaw, he had one for the softness of the skin at her throat.

"Chuck…" she murmured throatily, her fingers moving to sink into his hair, as her eyes drifted shut. "Chuck, I think I'm falling in love with you."

She became only aware of his hot breath against her ear, the slow journey of his fingers up her backside, the reverence with which he blessed her with his touch.

"You beautiful, beautiful fool," she heard him murmur against the curve of her ear as she smiled. "You beautiful fool, you've broken the rules."

* * *

_"Take me, take me,_

_Wanna be a victim, _

_Ready for abduction."_


End file.
